Dream Canvas

Status: Finished

Dream Canvas

Status: Finished

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Dream Canvas

Poem by: foldingover

Details

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

I've worked this from several angles. I hope that once you've finished the poem you'll understand what I mean. As I was writing this I was explaining it to myself and how I meant for it to be taken, and was arguing with me (if that makes sense). Hope you enjoy it, tell me what you think. Thanks....

Summary

I've worked this from several angles. I hope that once you've finished the poem you'll understand what I mean. As I was writing this I was explaining it to myself and how I meant for it to be taken, and was arguing with me (if that makes sense). Hope you enjoy it, tell me what you think. Thanks....

Content

Submitted: January 01, 2007

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Content

Submitted: January 01, 2007

A A A

A A A


Hours spent laying

No thoughts in my head

Facing the ceiling

Pillow...blanket...in bed

A prescribed numb to all feeling

Time filled without dreaming

There’s nothing to pull from

Inspirations all gone

No paint could depict

All that’s gone wrong

Empty canvas is craving

My beautiful art

Commence my new quest

To what sets thee apart

Climb down from this bed

Unplanned means of egress

A hope for fulfillment

From a self created mess

Each step in the right direction

Myself I continue to tell

Never looking back

Towards my old empty hell

Walking away

From city, county, and state

Not once will I pause

To think about fate

My face towards the future

Back to the past

Each step is the present

A pace set on fast

Under the glow of the moon

Then the light of the sun

Down the path for the seekers

The "losers" and shunned

Walk through the change

Of climate and time

Over the hills

Past every sign

Trampled tall grass

All covered in dew

By water falls and canyons

That nature accrued

Below the clouds

Below every star

Past pedestrians,

Trains, buses,

And Cars

On and off pavement

Some where footsteps

Aren't known

Through busy cities

Where no ones alone

I walk till there’s nothing

Left in my view

I now know what’s missing

What’ missing is you

Slip past the edge

A death from a trip

Life now dependent

On an eight finger grip

The last finger let go

From the cliff which I hang

Home is what’s needed

In bed I remained

Same pillow...same blanket

No thoughts in my head

Inspiration still absent

My hope remains dead

Quest summoned nothing

So I continue to stare

My art forever sought

My canvas still bare


© Copyright 2016 foldingover. All rights reserved.

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