Frayed dreams (as one).

WOW…DOESN’T SHE WRITE WELL?

Pseudopsychosis.

Frayed dreams, the pathway,
Strangers and passengers,
Abandoned by the wind’s blow,
As we emerge from the lit sky,
Traveling from our stone-kissed feet,
And if you stood, I’d have not gleamed
From the abyss,
From the fern, soaked with blood,
Shattered in the daylight, love;
I hear footsteps evoke the brush,
And the fields echoing, bolstered
By the dream’s repertoire,
The silence wrestled on, and we cannot speak;
A dying flicker by our eyes,
Loitering on the oaks in memory
Half-choked, the marauding rocks
Burst on the grass, thriving on the cold,
And the shade near the cut of red,
The flower on the softest hands,
The flower still unbound,
A flash of wind that
Darkens the valley;
And we reach carelessly
In the protracted gaze of snow,
As the quarry impels us in silence
In the blue sanctuary
The side of steel, twofold
With a rise in the…

View original post 118 more words

This entry was posted in Uncategorized on by .

About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.