Dust Gathering on My Rhymes

I am suspended in a time that is lost

in the laughter

flowing from my lips.

And no one ever told me,

there is no way out of this.

I am past recognizing solid ground

and burning

from the memories I keep.

Still, my Muse sings a lullaby

while my destiny weeps.

Paper flowers litter the floorboard

of my heart

and go up in smoke inside my head.

I can't control

a single breath ahead.

My thoughts choose to stay inside the ink

where there's no risk

of living outside this time.

I can feel dust gathering...

on my rhymes.

Author's Note

Artist : Renso Castaneda

Reviews

[rivers]

metaphorical sleights of hand
dry onto the empty sheet of paper
as traces of past now’s…

miles of written reverie spun
like a spider reprocessing,
carefully savoring,
each fine silk thread of web
spinning the intricate "womb of time"...

[Neva Flores Smith - Changefulstorm]

Thank you Harlon :)

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Well, I can feel frost gathering in my hair and beard....lol....You write so beautifully it takes a great stretch of the imagination (and I have a pretty flexible imagination) to picture dust ever gathering on your rhymes. Your destiny should never weep either. You are beautiful, talented, sensitive and hard-working. I'm only three of those! (laughing)...Happy Valentine's Day to a very gifted poet!

[Frieda P]

Wow this is a unique one Neva...love it to pieces. Great artwork just melds into your words also. You hit another home run, as always! Powerful and poignant, not to mention precious! Yes, today is a P day apparently for you. ;-)

[Jack...]

Neva, this is one powerful and creative poem. I realize that the theme is somewhat sad, but it also presents someone who knows, who is aware of what is happening. You work is quite amazing, it flows smoothly and tastes of sweet success. Very nice.