A distant sound will wake me up;
My eyelids blink open like blinds.
The dream is lost, like broken smoke,
But still tethered, to find.
One simple breath will break this bond,
That slips out of my hand.
The memory will soon by gone,
And drift away, like sand.
Now as I lie there, searching deep,
Inside the mirrored halls,
I find a trace of my last dream,
But stumble, and it falls.
As the tide goes out, so does the dream;
Its soul is unforgotten.
But the tale itself has left my side,
Half there; its roots are rotten.
Dear Sir, Your stories amuse my mind,
Your tales are sad, but be so kind,
To tell myself, who writes to you,
About how to tell a tale or two.
I do not think, kind sir, that I,
All of these mixed emotions are like tumbling drops of rain.
Each one has come and gone, yet you will see them all again.
This life will come and go as the train I regr...
I am a Tiny Person, and I am reading your Tiny Stories. It is nice to know that the more beautiful, Tiny things in life are appreciated, like Tiny People such as myself, a...
Another (shorter) poem I wrote ages ago.. :)
I rest under the sleepy leaves
Stolen by some silent thieves,
Who are intent on keeping me,
Wrapped up inside the...
There's something inside me,
That drums on my throat,
And threatens to fumble,
The sum of this note.
And yet I won't grumble,
Or rumble this rhyme,
'Cause some might n...
Three brothers, upon a twisted tree,
Spied their world from above the sea,
"Night dawns, and daytime sleeps" said he.
Every morning and evening, the hair follicles had a brush with death.
They were at their wit's end...
Until their ends were cut off.