Arid Breath

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  • Fantasy

    Arid Breath

    Just so dry like leather
    in the back of my throat.
    Yet my palms sweat as though
    the wait is almost over.

    The walls close in surrounding
    all I thought was reality.
    And still I can't help but be
    happy to be here.

    There they are...I finally see them !
    I never thought this day would come.
    What do I say ? what do I do ?
    My tongue is so dry.

    Stretch out my hand expecting the same
    in return....but no , they don't understand.
    They extend as if to wave but do not.
    There must be a bridge somewhere.

    At last my voice attempts a flutter
    and I say hello.
    Then they smile and answer back
    from inside my head.

    I smile as they nod in appreciation
    of the gift bestowed upon them .
    But they must know I am just one man,
    Not all will offer peace.


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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    MattS’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Final Confession 0
    Arid Breath 0
    Floating in the Water 0
    Given Time 1
    Set aside 1