Falling Through Times Open Arms

None

Falling down, upon the ground
Clouds drifting high
Many men waving bye, bye bye

Standing up
Inside a head thats long been dead
Looking at frozen entrails
A mothers rebirth brings

Many colours spiralling
Into broken, encrusted shell like sodden earth
Crystal brick
buildings
Laughing at seagulls, who have lost their grip

Who can know?
The bow bends, or breaks over landscapes
Where no arrows ever flew
Yet now at a quickening pace, we slow down
And leave a single trace.

Green log, milky fog
Saunters over open bracken
Soil that clings to thighs, brings greater satisfaction
In this loud and silent stream
Waters fill the empty wastes of mindless procrastination

Broken legs lying in my bed
Speak of times to come
But arms no longer believe them!
Reading in, or out, darkness never blots out light
So please Oh please,
Like memories locked in syntax forever dreaming.

Always hanging by cords of wrath
Spirits fail when men think they can fly!   

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

"Who can know?
The bow bends, or breaks over landscapes
Where no arrows ever flew"
Always a pleasure to read your poetry. Poem took me to many places and open the door to many questions. I enjoyed the complete poem. Thank you for a excellent poem.
Coyote

[.]

agree with PB..the last line brings this poem to a poignant ending..with a melancholy tune weaving through the verse

[Poetic Beauty]

I really like the power in the last line.