Artificial Dreamland

4 Comments

  • iLuvPoetryJACOB
  • Poetry will always emerge out of the shadows of depression, shining like a star in the scarcity of light.

Poem Commentary

This one did not have much thought into it......my hand just kind of moved without control this time......it all just came out.

Artificial Dreamland

The roses smelt of Styrofoam cups,

the ocean waves a blur in my water color mind.

Olive skins and broken strollers

litter the starry sunset.

The sun a saturated egg yolk

on the dark, rough skillet horizon.

 

A homeless child peers through a window

at a glowing family eating from their sunshine plates

as the ivory moon taints the cold air around her white

and the gentle sounds of a sorrowful violinist shimmer in the air.

The TV screen is mirrored in a loving mother’s teary eyes

while she strokes her daughter’s soft black hair,

the girl’s snores softly strumming the air.

 

My feet touch the warm floating layer of sand,

a few grains falling through the unfathomable mist below me

as I took steps, each one closer and closer to the playground.

Monkey bars and colorful slides and ropes and swing sets,

young children’s haven.

 

This one is a fraud.

 

—May. 30, 2010

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doorga commented on Artificial Dreamland

06-12-2010

the poem mirrors ur talent i like the metaphors very intense absolutely loved it

iLuvPoetryJACOB

06/12/2010

thank you so much i really appreciate it. --Natalie.

lunamarie commented on Artificial Dreamland

06-12-2010

a wonderful talent you are, my dear ... and how old are you again ?? ... giggle ............ Luna

iLuvPoetryJACOB

06/12/2010

thank you. and you absolutely love making fun of my age lol

lunamarie

06/12/2010

no-no hunny ... i just have a hard time believing ... your mother will understand what i mean ............ L.

iLuvPoetryJACOB

06/12/2010

lol yes she does. i know what you mean. :)

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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