Deep in a Crack

Its a short rhyming fantasy.

Deep in a crack, where the floor meets the wall,
there's a path that winds back to a doorway so small
that the tiniest ant couldn't squeeze in or crawl,
but this story will walk you right through.

So, just loosen your thoughts to what comes from the reading
and try not to guess at the plot, where it's leading,
as whimsy surrounds us and logic's receding.
We're here, the way's open, let's go...

We step outo a land where minds go when they wander,
where artists employ what the daydreamers squander,
while philosophers stack thoughts like blocks, as they ponder;
all ignoring our casual stroll.

Many things are familiar, yet shifted askew.
Like, our shadows walk with us, mimicking what we do
and they constantly whisper about déjà vu, 
insisting that we know the future.

The horizon's a slide show of cities and field.
As we watch them go by, fantasies are revealed.
And they lure our hearts to the pleasures they'd yield, 
but that's a journey for you to write.

The reason we're here's not to find paradise
or to go up a mountain for my grand advice.
All this rhyming's a spell to coax your sacrifice.
I want space for my thoughts in your memories.

And I'll chase you all day, through what landscapes you choose,
'til, with evening, we tire and you grant or refuse
my single desire. You've so little to lose.
Let it rest, the spell is still spinning.

Looking up to the sun, it just smiles and winks.
Then it's gone and the sky holds its breath while it sinks
through a radiant spectrum to the blackest of brinks,
where it skids to a stop amid sparks.

The stars in this sky aren't like other stars.
They're an army of fireflies locked up in jars,
each containing a dream that was flung from the bars
of an imagination caged in order.

And we dance in the night, our toes tickling the grass,
throwing stones wrapped in thunder to shatter the glass.
With each burst of release, booming echoings pass
and hope's back, free to pilot the breeze.

But, as winds trade their whistle for thrashing, we stumble,
and the gusts scoop us up as the ground starts to crumble
in a great swirling storm that subsides with a mumble,
leaving me to drift in the void.

So, I've lost you, my anchor, whose eyes ruled the page.
You, who gave me a moment to soften my rage.
You were real, no mirage. I was free from the cage.
I will remember you.

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think.

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

My first thought about what it is you lost...is your thoughts? Am I right or wrong. Artists employ what the daydreams squander. I'm thinking that the answer is in that. Our thoughts. Love it when a question at the end makes you go back looking for the answer. I might keep looking....

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading, William! :)
I lost the reader, you. Haha

[Verse]

Haha! What a beautiful flight into a sea of world.

Every word beckons, like a game, maybe a treasure hunt during an afternoon picnic. Laughter and friendship, dolefulness and longing all blend together into this elegant feast day of a write.:):)

Thanks for inviting me, Matt! You pour your heart into these carefully constructed works, I can see that.

V

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Verse!
I had a lot of fun writing poetry. I lost the spark, hoping it will come back some day. :)

[ROXANE DORSEY]

I like this wonderful poem. thanks for sharing the natural given talent.

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Roxane! :)

[Carol Cashes]

"We step outo a land where minds go when they wander,
where artists employ what the daydreamers squander,
while philosophers stack thoughts like blocks, as they ponder; "

Perfect description of the place in the heads of writers and poets everywhere. Love the philosopher's blocks.

I'm a neophyte poet, and I love rhyme that still conveys an articulate thought - you did this in spades. *nodding my regal head* Carry on...

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Carol! I enjoy rhyming my poems. It makes them more fun to write. Adding meter makes it more of a challenge.

[emipoemi]

Absolutely great poem!! Fantastic musicality full of emotion, devotion, and grand imagery. The Last line I would suggest lacks one or two syllables to really end on the rhythmic beat, and "they'd yield" is too hard on the tongue (let's not make the readers do tongue/speech acrobatics as they skip along with you).....lose the "'d" (it also makes the action of "yielding" more certain and active and still remain mystic and mysterious as to what the pleasures would be rather than needing to hint at the various "pleasures" by contracting "would" and "they". Well done!

[mattavelli]

Thanks, emi!:)
I had a lot of fun writing this one.

[The earth (Titan maphah..]

love this one to the core...

[mattavelli]

Thanks for reading! :)

[Great Aunt Astri]

This was really lovely to read. I too like to involve nature!

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Astri! :)
I had a lot of fun writing this one.

[Great Aunt Astri]

Yes, the fun shines through!

[Soumi]

Amazing!! Beautiful. I am truly inspired by you and your writing!!

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Soumya! :)

[Josie E. Cook M. A.]

Wonderful!

"I love this and it is so original.
We step outo a land where minds go when they wander,
where artists employ what the daydreamers squander,
while philosophers stack thoughts like blocks, as they ponder;
all ignoring our casual stroll." Nice section that I admire.

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Josie! :)

[Michael X]

This poem pulls the reader into the dream of it all, and reminds me of a dueling sonnet. I can feel the fantasy in these words, Great use of language!

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Michael! :)

[Tony Jordan]

Great wordsmithing here Mattavelli.
I felt like I was being pulled behind a horse like the old cowboy films but in a good way.
Especially loved the way you flipped 'trade winds' - very clever!

[mattavelli]

Thank you, Tony! :)
You're cleverer than me. The trade winds weren't on my mind. Haha

[Tony Jordan]

Hah - I bet your subconscious is better than mines then...lmao

[mattavelli]

I think one of ours has mild dyslexia. I'll let figure you who. :p

[Tony Jordan]

lol - Well mines has dyscalculia so it's lemon-entry my dear Watson...