"The Unicorn"

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  • Fantasy

    "The Unicorn"

    The Unicorn, unbridled by reality,

    Showed to this eye an image lost to me.

    It wasn't wild, it wasn't tame, what was it there?

    Hooves of steeled-enamour when it pranced.

    A single spiraled horn against starry lazers glanced.

    Rearing, a whirl of mane, stomping gallop, and angel's dust;

    The cloud left behind assured to me reality was not to trust.

     

    Still entranced, still dissipating, no horizons- only fantasies.

    Before I knew, a snorting and a whinney, followed by misty spray.

    Startled and shook, over my shoulder I looked to another day.

    In this mystic creatures eye could see a time lost to me.

    This innocence and fairy world, why familiar to my eye?

     

    A babe, all alone, and wrapped in garbs of silk-worm cloth.

    Gurgling lips, and star-bright eyes playing to the reaching hand;

    At whose wrinkled-plump digits a fairy does dance.

     

    What stillness in this majestic beast's stare!

    What silence in the Unicorn's mighty breaths!

    What a portal to this most forgotten land!

     Amidst the Unicorn's eye, my own sight is reborn.

     

    This is me, my heaven's birth, outside of reality.

    I still can't speak what I see today.

    I can hardly, but cry in claim of sight.

    Why, I look to Mommy, do I have to forget;

    I look so happy in this other place?

     

    Years later, many memories forgotten and passed,

    Laying in bed; surrounded by lights; gurgling lips;

    Hands wrinkled, more so than before... a familiarity.

    My eyes are glazed, returning to innocence-

    Reality seems but a dream to me.

    I hallucinate strange metallic plunkitty-plunks.

    The nurses leave me alone again.

     

    A whinney, a snort, a misty spray upon my face.

    I stare, not shook nor startled, and smile large.

    Mommy, I see you now know what I tried to cry.

    You found that fairy land in the Unicorn's eye.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    ParticleSon’s Poems (19)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    "Another Love Poem Without a Name" 0
    "The Unicorn" 0
    "The Troll" 0
    "Waiting on the Other Side" 0
    Silent Coversation Consumed in Storm Clouds 0
    "Angels Over Sunset" 0
    "Regret Lies Still" 0
    "Butterfly Hips" 0
    "Shamanic Visions" 3
    "Shackles and Lessons" 0
    "Shadows" 1
    "Dyiing from the Inside Out" 0
    “The Maple Tree” 2
    "My Mistress- The Sky" 0
    "Street Cleaners" 0
    "Commercializ
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    0
    "Addressing Dreams" 1
    "Summer Wishes" 1
    Wind's Whisper 1