Poem of the Day – Is it real

Is it real


As an idea

Flower embellishing soft breaking waves

Of reverence

As signals of time spent dreams


Floating, gently on streams

What does it mean

A scheme, a lively possession

Talk until the weather is high

Grinding small bones into ashes

In my mind


A scene in a built up scullery

Of salads in steamers, and crushed galleries

Enough to salute the senses

Mix intentions

Take a scream away


Crisp endeavours fast filled and receding

Like bald lines on gentlemen

Light against shade attractive to sweet hearts

Conditioned and bending to charms


Bristles shaping slabs of soap

Sharp razors cutting, scraping

Slitting the purses of poverty

In jeopardy

The time is up



Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 24th December 2015


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