Here is my son,
the apparitions of a phantom in the night,
seeking a dawn sky that’s rooted in a yawn
My wife flutters,
a bird of paradise
among aromas of early morning coffee.
She sleeps with one eye on the nest,
appeasing those half flown,
clutching conciliation to her breast.
She communes, he describes
It's funny how life just goes by.
He glances at my jaundiced eye.
Did I ever take the time?
Once I dropped him when a child.
He smiles the smile
of one who flies for miles.
11 Jul 09
Rated 9 (9) by 1 users.
Inactive (0): 9
(define the words in this poem)
(839 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
I have no crits...nicely done poement...especially like line 11-14
genuine poetry communicates before it is understood--T.S. Eliot
I agree unknown
Thanks stout but i prefer Guinness as they do say it is good for you
Larry quaffer and purveyor of charming little ditties Lark
Just about perfect. xanipani
read this awhile ago, but of course, like it even more now, upon careful consideration.
to be expected, though. even though i always like your poems a ton on the first and second read, i just like them even more as the days go by. and by the way, the last two lines are just ... golden and free.
Nothing is perfection in a world where distant dreams are constantly blurred by a lack of vision in the material world we live in
Larry immaterial Lark
I shall be dripping by in the next couple of days when i have got dog tiredness out of my bones and start realising I am on holiday for nearly 7 weeks. This is one of those that sprang from no wnere but i guess it was there all along, so closely do i observe my eldest son.
Larry watching brief lark