Poem of the Day – Bucket Lump

Bucket Lump


Piles of pockets torn;

Crushing crest fallen penance

Because we dreamed of picked out harmonies

Charming trees that whistle in the wind:

Tunes with meaning.


Screaming in torrents of rain splashing

Crashing in broken gutters; seems okay to miss appointments.


Strength of clasped veins throbbing

Sobbing into ashtrays

Fallen guard releases border lines cases

Chases the wagon in lace torn dresses

Messes with the senses.


Immense as it is

As high as the tree is planted

Enchanted by the pale green misty pleasure

A measure of the times that could be if only

We stopped complaining:

Chaining ourselves to the present past moment.


No hope for stragglers

The ones with the will of a loner

Become atoned to resting

Sleep in tandem

Together rather than apart


May 2nd 2017

Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright


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