Tares

I have sewn a golden field of illusions

in the fertile black soil of ignorance.

Under a warm sun of desire,

watered by rains of false promises,

it has ripened and grown ready for harvest.

Gathered and bound in sheaves of delusion,

it is sent to rumor's market,

where it is milled between the stones of imagination.

Now undetectable from other flour,

it is sold to the masses

who mix it with the yeast of hope

It raises, then falls,

leaving life's bread

poisonous and bitter to the taste.

Reviews

[nadia dmitri]

The way you carry the symbolism through the entire piece makes it so cohesive and substantive. That sensory imagery is very impactful. Great job :))

[Ken Simm.]

You have bked some profound thoughts here. And beautifully I may add.

[emmajoygreen]

Such powerful and raw words finely laid.. anger and a strange bereavement locked together start to finish. How sad however, that your usual creativity has been swamped this time by such emotions.

' I have sewn a golden field of illusions
in the fertile black soil of ignorance.
Under a warm sun of desire,
watered by rains of false promises,
it has ripened and grown ready for harvest.'

Your poetry is more than words it is a canvas of life and love.

[Soren]

Emmajoy you again humble me with your words. I am most grateful for your most kind comments.

[emmajoygreen]

Smiling and waving hello!