Liquid of River Glass

In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.

He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.

We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.

I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.

A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.

In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.

When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.

:: 05.17.2024 ::

Reviews

[Vol]

E.P.,
This poem requires more than one response. Isolated fantasy rarely works because of the lack of context, and I kept expecting this one to fall down on that premise. It does not, because it is entirely self-contained and builds on your created setting. Your imagery is what I like best, though, "where shadows dance with marionette leaves," "where fish flew by on currents of twilight.
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars, cradled in the arms of endless night." and takes us to a universe reminiscent of any and all of those Science Fiction/fantasy worlds we love.
The last line ties us up in our current cultural whirlwind where things have gone so far out of whack that what we've always accepted as "reality," is, in fact surreal. It is reflected in our music, our art, our stupid lack of insight or depth, and especially our politics. An excellent commentary, sir.
Vol

[E.P. Robles]

Thank you for your kind review. I so appreciate your feedback.

[robert harris jr]

a mission almost impossible to steer in the right direction the shock and surprise when love is not love
when the truth is your but their truth when their plenty of to be told but their denial becomes your tears
your lesson your pain but you know you have to move on change your lining in the morning ROBERT

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow, all that beauty and wonder in a place...and then we wake as from a dream....and it

never really existed...yet the experience was vastly beneficial...like a reflection of what once was.
j.