A Gift

4 Comments

Tags:
  • Imagination
    • ,
  • Day Dreams

    A Gift

    There is a place below heaven where thoughts drift
    In the depths of our minds we are given a gift
    A reward for hectic days and life’s doldrums
    Where images float on petals of lavender mums

    Imaginary things, coconut rings
    On tips of feathery dove wings
    A seductive glare, flowing auburn hair
    Running free as a child not having a care

    Bay Bridge runners, entangled park lovers
    Milky white skin against emerald covers
    Wiggling toes, red laced satin bows
    Taking off our conventional clothes

    Cotton candy tears, painted polo mares
    A Victorian mansion with circular stairs
    Colorful peacock tails, glass humpback whales
    Celestial sky entwined in creamy beige sails

    Waltzing along a mandarin orange sea
    Where day dreams swim setting our souls free
    Raising stage curtains leaving behind
    All solid things in a land weathered by time

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    Mandi commented on A Gift

    09-05-2013

    I love the visuals. They are crisp. clear... Some verses run smoother than others, but I have no idea what to do about it. How does one make lines that glide..... Also, you have very original ideas. I like that
    Reply to Comment

    MootPoint

    09/05/2013

    Yea writing a lot of random stuff made them one easier to write than a lot of my stuff. Thanks for the comment.

    ccslim commented on A Gift

    06-09-2013

    Bravo! A another fine write that allows one to share the adventure of the wonderfully made mind.
    Reply to Comment

    poett commented on A Gift

    06-03-2013

    I couldn't stop smiling as I imagined such place... I remember running wild n carefree as a child n always looking up in the sky imagining such a magical place ;)
    Reply to Comment

    MootPoint

    06/03/2013

    Thank you for all your comments. This one is one my favorites also.

    mspoetris commented on A Gift

    03-23-2013

    My eyes could envision the colors of this write. I drifted back to childhood days, and even heard the Good Humor mans music! Love this one. Thank you.
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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