DEAD DREAMS

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

She showed me her dreams,
They were colourful and gay.
She showed her dreams
they were present and wingless

She showed me her dreams,

They were colourful and gay.

She showed her dreams

they were present and wingless

Her dreams were full of old, monstrous colours

and driven by a grim nothingness.

She showed me her dreams

They were in shadowy shades

And like a leaky water jar

They were full of emptiness.

Her dreams sluice from a fine vase

Of dead hopes and present lies

Forgotten truths and fire-like frustrations.

She collected her dreams

like water in a basket

and they drip and droop slowly

into an unremembered past.


Submitted: December 27, 2020

© Copyright 2021 O'maleD. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Criss Sole

I loved the use of metaphors here.
Great poem.

Sun, December 27th, 2020 9:24am

Author
Reply

Thank you so much for your time. I much appreciate it.

Sun, December 27th, 2020 1:39am

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