Full of Gray

The Skies full and gray make me think I'm not really here.
Wakefulness, is it just a hallucination?
Take me now, oh God, I pray.
I'm not really here.
The trees with the wind sway.
Yet I stand rigid, as it carries my mind.
Into the perpetual gray,
I am the spring blossoms. 

Comments:
 
penname   penname wrote
on 9/30/2008 4:22:06 PM
oh i like the fact that you emphasized "Skies"

penname   penname wrote
on 9/30/2008 4:21:24 PM
sway, perpetual gray, rigid...all wonderful words used. a tool a good artist turns into the art itself. i like the simplicity, this short poem, speaks volumes.

Moqui_Takoda   Moqui_Takoda wrote
on 9/30/2008 4:05:35 PM
I love this. It reminds me of a poem by one of my favorite authors. Sassoon. It is a marvelous little prayer. your last line is indicates that you are a powerful poet. I must read more of your poems.

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