Waiting River

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  • Emotional

    Waiting River

    A rainbow of wild flowers
    lie in front of me in a field.
    The sun lies low showing its rays
    of amber yellow and red.
    Glisten over the field of wild flowers
    a past flickers like a silent movie.
    giving a broken should
    a reason to stay.
    With a river of tears on a
    porcelain face
    she falls to the round reaching for
    the love that pours out of the silent movie.
    once the sun goes down , only black remains
    her pour broken should urns for the
    love it once felt.
    Now standing alone in the dark.
    she picks a flower,
    turns and walks in a new path
    making a new movie.

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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.

    honeysuckel’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Black Mirror 0
    Narration, a dangerous game 0
    Waiting River 0
    The Truth 0
    Peggy 0
    First Aid 0
    Jewel 1
    Safe 0
    No Meaning -1
    Spitting Fire 0