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Author Name: Freewritelady 9 Comments
Date Added: March 05, 2009 11:03:06 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Pre-measured portions of sun

and winds of fate greet us

when opening our eyes

from dreams well kept

hidden in their nocturnal cloaking.

We reap what we sow from seeds

inherited and those that floated by

on summer breezes

caught in the palms

of youthful hands

too young to know better

too curious to blow them back.

We toil at life

to find meaning and justice

only to be slung backwards into

the realm of unending questions

searching for answers growing on tea leaves

while marred and disfigured statues of justice

stand weeping beside the thorny rose.

Once dreams meant something

beneath covers of woven wools

where we lay naked and mindless

where we left them lay hastily to begin

again a new day of searching and toiling

confident that seeds and their germination

can once again be cradled

by youthful palms and unscathed memories

while the lip twitching taste of sweetened hope

plays on tethered tongues and seduces a sprouting.

Now they are only what they are

far off in some distant fleeting thought

known for the luxury of escape when

toiling is done and pungent fruit hangs rotting

in the pre-portioned light of the sun

as we never knew when to pick

now we lay marred and disfigured by the injustices of life

wrinkled by too many years, too many dreams

too much left in the hands of fate.

Author's Notes:
I was having some fun with phrases and somehow all this came about. Not even sure if it al makes sense, but neither does life sometimes..
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Comment By: FreeWide Awake on May 25, 2009 03:36:34 PM Report
Talk about a winner?!

The use of metaphor in this is exquisite!

What imagery!

OH!  This needs an award!  ADMINISTRATION!!!


Comment By: Freejohn carter on May 24, 2009 04:29:03 PM Report
It is a mish-mash of some of the best words i ever read.


Comment By: FreeBarbara Demasson on March 24, 2009 02:11:02 AM Report
This left me feeling melancholy--sad for the dreams lost throughout the years as so many truly are. "too many dreams" only gives us more chances of seeing a greater number realized. Very nice work Barbie.



Comment By: FreeLeonard Wilson on March 20, 2009 08:15:42 PM Report
To me it's a poem about dreams losing their luster with age. Either that, or it's about a small boy who swollows a magic bean, much to his discomfort... :o)...len
Comment By: FreeAlison Storm Wolf on March 12, 2009 04:01:49 PM Report
LOVED IT! My only feeling was that some of the lines could have been punctuated more....but it comes over as a mind stream...and a very able mind at that.

beneath covers of woven wools

where we lay naked and mindless
where we left them lay hastily to begin
again a new day of searching and toiling

I would have changed the second 'where' to something else to save repetition but wonderfully colourful rich writing.
Ali x

Comment By: FreeJoe on March 7, 2009 09:18:53 AM Report

We toil at life

to find meaning and justice

only to be slung backwards into

the realm of unending questions

... and our transient
lives, answer so few of them. It's like walking off the street into a
theatre, having watched one of the acts in a long play... neither
having seen the beginning, nor given the time to sit through the end.
And having seen that one act, having to guess at the rest

Comment By: FreeGlata on March 7, 2009 07:12:04 AM Report
Makes plenty of sense to me...How well I grasped the last part, for sure!


Your brain is an amazing, creative place, girl!

Love ya...


Comment By: FreeA.P. on March 6, 2009 10:53:03 PM Report
i am in love with this!
this affects me the exact same way some powerful, incredibly honest soul-baring life reflecting song would...So many amazing lines in this, i love the self-reflexivity of it within the inevitable progressive quality of it, just like reflecting on life while it continues to pass by...which is similar to the way you described writing this i guess!
i love the dreams, the nature in every scene, the youthfulness yet melancholy that image of the pungent fruit hanging rotting, paralleled with the idea of wrinkles, aging, overripeness...
it is a mash of phrases indeed, a mash that works perfectly in conjunction with a definite mood/atmosphere ringing out.

Comment By: FreeMoon Fairy on March 5, 2009 03:32:49 PM Report
It makes sense, truly it does. They all combine into a well thought out and written verse like this.
Man, wished I wrote this...gorgeous phrases.
Hope all is well with you and your grandbabies.
Big hugs,


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