Somnambulist

Just a little love poem.

 In my dreams I lie at your feet: 
some nameless saint in a stained glass window 
Begging his messiah. 
The tears flow 
And (in that flow) 
are every avalanche ever fallen 
down mountainside. 
You just stand there, 
a man-madonna clad in an enigmatic smile, 
porcelain hands floating out of a blue robe; 
but when I wake, you are even more the dream: 
A statue prayed to but never responsive, 
like a god, everywhere and nowhere at all.

Author's Note

Please be insightful and constructive in your reviews. "Good poem" or "I don't like it" are hardly what anyone would consider helpful.

Reviews

[Hope's Etro]

....Wow! this really is deep....You grasped the "thrown aside/outcast" aspect of being alone, I also like how you leve out conjunctions like "a, is, was, ect.." I write like that to xP it gives room for a back drop of sorts; a "changable conclousion" all and all you did a great job, keep it up Thomas!