Dust of a dream

Dust of a dream swept out the door

Calloused mirror fractured broken

Wind caught on a nail, too blind to be poor

Time melted into yesterday's word spoken

Drunken day stumbles and falls

Tomorrow's hangover buried under my pillow

Each day's coffins charred under black palls

Dark clouds of menaced meaning billow

Vintage air bottled in mason jars

Two hundred proof, to sip only

A shadow held back by bars

Smokeless flame painted lonely

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

Death is only a Dream where Angels sleep… and Rainbows 🌈 Rest… like Blankets on a Stormy Night… Amen… softly, Pat

[Soren]

Such beautiful words. Thank you so much for the read and support Pat

[John the Baptist]

This rather somber piece seems to speak of loss and impermanence. We hear of "time melted into yesterday's day's word spoken." Then there is the mention of "each day's coffins charred under black palls." The poem ends with "Smokeless flame painted lonely." This is not a happy poem, but the words have a spare beauty to them.

[Soren]

Thank you John so true there is little happieness in this poem. Appreciate the read and interpretation.

[Marie]

Dreams unfulfilled swept away. The wind swept the mirror of its hook and it lies shattered. Thoughts return to yesterday and to things which were said and are still on one's mind. Good and bad within the day, with a hangover to accompany me as I sleep tonight. Tomorrow dark clouds will visit, and crowd my mind menacingly. No comfort in a smokeless flame, it is not from a real fire which is so warm and comforting and though one is alone, it erases that feeling of loneliness.
Wondering if this excellent metaphoric write is about pollution in the atmosphere, dear Soren? I have read it four times and that is what it feels like to me, but as usual, I am probably incorrect, dear friend (laughing!). Lovely work, Soren. Thank you so very much for sharing...

[Soren]

Thank you Marie for the read and interpretation. Like a Rorschach card a poem is seen differently by each reader and just as the poet puts part of themself into writing so the reader puts part of themself into its interpretation. As I have said before the only correct interpretation is the one the reader has. So appreciate your comments

[Marie]

Most welcome, always, dear Soren and thank you again for sharing...

[Ken Simm.]

This is all about atmosphere I feel and it does it jobs, (plural) with grace and beauty.

[Soren]

Thanks so much Ken I appreciate the review and kind words. Yes Ken and atmosphere no one does better than nature