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Dreams
| Open Poetry #24 |
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Dreams |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA 
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You’ve seen a beggar play the trumpet by the Trump Tower on fifth avenue, haven’t you? Dreams are born in Manhattan. They die on street-corners. Worn out and battered, they are food for the morgue, work for coroners. Here, dreams are heavy. Their carcasses slide off the canvases into coffins. Often, at night, you can hear their echoes from the upper east side: “Hope is a good breakfast, but a poor supper.” Check out my poetry here: |
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| © Copyright 2003 Andrey Kneller - All Rights Reserved | |||
Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Andrey, Very interesting. Though I've never been there.  I liked that last line.If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Intense imagery here. If only one meal a day is available, Hope isn't such bad fare. |
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