Poem of the Day – A Bawling Dream

Paintings now at



A Bawling Dream


Packed in blinding hot boxes on wheels

Stolen away; a breath a day

Gasping in unison with choked birds singing

Thinking of black and white cover photos

Not knowing

The implications


Tunes tinkling distant;

As whistling balloons are rising.

Picturing copper sulphate skies

As tubes of tales smelt the fire with an evening sunset.


Waves washing, windows tears

Just holding a fantasy:

Mad to see, the smiling faces.


Droplets from above; meeting the streams below

Demanding attention not seeking.

Grinding stones, wrapped in solar dust:

For shining trinkets

Swaying in buckets

Piled in stadiums

To haunt the memory


A palace of misfortune

To Gather

To make apprehension a norm

A day to day storm brewing

A revolving



December 3rd 2017

Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright




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