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Open Poetry #46

below the sleeping heads

Tomer
Senior Member

since 2002-06-28

Posts 1168
Michigan

0 posted 2010-07-27 08:30 PM

I remember the height of my walk
down the winding river of truth and sleet,
of skies disguising the wind with a partial blue sigh.

Here, catch me as I fall,
catch the torso of my soul
because I don't know if I'm real,
if I can see a sea of me,

A platform where I can walk
with strangers, ask to share their stares
along the Potomac rivers

Ask to be the wildfire
of the backyards of my neighbors
as they sit and talk, nod their heads
like the pigeons that share our conversations
until the fall of night,

Where I can imagine myself rising,
touching a part of something stronger,
feeling the tide come closer,
that is, until I wake to another day.

[This message has been edited by Tomer (07-28-2010 08:35 AM).]

easy1
Senior Member

since 2010-05-22

Posts 1209
Southeastern USA

1 posted 2010-07-28 07:29 AM

What can one say? The imagery is more than competent. Walks in sleet take this reader back a ways, too... and I, too, remember thoughts I used to have before realizing that vengeance is the Lord's.

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