As I Flicker
A Poem by
Me
As I flicker, dwindle, linger on; nostalgic glances quite far gone. As I merge and splurge and recollide into the colours I was when I was. Wandering semi-colons spaced on a page, mixed with black and white morning.. Each child lives only to die. As I flicker, linger, dwindle by. As I meander, drift, wander about, flickering by in pallor arches. Two on the go, one to show, three to get ready and die. A foot in the ground. A foot in the grave, goes dancing, prancing on as I dwindle inside. One mystery becomes the next. Fate calls, then is gone. This flicker lingers and dwindles into the shade of where I live.
© 2011 Me
Reviews
lovely poem :)
i love the way you've put the stanzas in this
brilliant
Posted 13 Years Ago
This poem grabbed me & refused to let go. "As I merge and splurge and recollide/ into the colours I was when I was" speaks to me like thunder. I loved it!!!
Posted 13 Years Ago
This poem grabbed me & refused to let go. "As I merge and splurge and recollide/ into the colours I was when I was" speaks to me like thunder. I loved it!!!
What a nice read this was! What first caught my attention was the stanzas and how you shaped them like you did. Then my favorite part was "A foot in the ground.
A foot in the grave, goes dancing, prancing on- as I dwindle inside." again very nice!
Posted 13 Years Ago
What a nice read this was! What first caught my attention was the stanzas and how you shaped them like you did. Then my favorite part was "A foot in the ground.
A foot in the grave, goes dancing, prancing on- as I dwindle inside." again very nice!
Beautifully versed, Michael. I particularly like the first 3 lines. Pretty poignant...thanks for sharing. -Alison
Posted 13 Years Ago
Beautifully versed, Michael. I particularly like the first 3 lines. Pretty poignant...thanks for sharing. -Alison
I hear a song within this wonderful piece.
Posted 13 Years Ago
I hear a song within this wonderful piece.
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Added on November 7, 2011
Last Updated on November 7, 2011
Author
Me Ontario, Canada
About
On the splendid streets of Toronto walks a man. He observes, he writes, he lives; a never-ending chronicle of his mind flooding from his hands onto paper.
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