Thursday, May 8, 2008

Last of this trip down Creativity Rd.


The sun came up
slowly over the landscape of decay
no smell or stench
no movement or life
but you knew... something lived there once.
There was no "western" moment -
no tumbleweeds racing by with dust clouds for a backdrop.
The air was stagnant
as if it wasn't really air at all
but possibly a lack of air
breathing still, but without meaning.
If it was once alive, this place showed no memory.
More like an alien horizon than any seen on earth.
Muted colors - a sky you knew was blue
but only because you knew - not because it was.
The ground was dirt-colored,
brown shades that crunched under foot
but left no footprints...
This should have been a place to frighten me
i felt nothing
i was in a watercolor dream, some past-life memory
it had no meaning or message
it simply was.
The canvas I'd created of my own feelings
once painted, gone
& dreamt of, forgotten.

1 comment:

Betsy said...

such serious poems. don't you write any "roses are red" stuff? :-)