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Dreamscape

33-33

Bluelighter
Joined
Nov 12, 2005
Messages
44
[This is about being a writer, well, sort of...]


The writer sits and ponders
Filled with empty silent dread.
‘Sorry, this word cannot be found’
the smug spellchecker says.

Weary of petty complications
he drifts, searching for inspiration.
Soaring through the African sky
with glorious, lofty liberation.

The yellow plains stretch far below
Herds of buffalo, running free
The lions hide amongst the grass
Dotted around sandarac trees.

He soars now, over snow-caped peaks
Tableclothed in angry cloud.
Beside eagles, gliding with their young
Their talons stretched in readiness
Silhouetted against the fiery sun.

He conjures now, Fijian sand, lazy swaying palms
Crashing frothy, tumultuous waves; silky banana rum.
A sparkling ocean glittering, caked with yellow icing,
Just a mirror for the setting sun.

But then wings of grace are stripped
He plummets towards uncertainty
falling back to his swivel chair, staring
at desk lamps, coffee, burgundy.

The rain drizzles down outside
The heating pours through well-placed vents
While Chinese Communism awaits
Confronting, mocking, dense.
 
Welcome to Words, 33-33!

Great piece. Vivid, alluring imagery makes the title very fitting... and I love your ending! :)
 
I can relate to this peak and crash experience you describe, i enjoyed the fantastic natural world and the world travel parts, all happening while stuck behind a desk. Love the imagination.
This poem got me thinking about past-lives.
 
i'm with wordy, he is the real sparticus. like your other piece this well written, well developed, easy to relate to and everything a poem should be.
 
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