Friday, June 1, 2012


By G J Gillespie

Morning comes with dewy yawn
Speeding trains scrape iron like an ape
Wild into nether goes the fog
Together with airy feathers it escapes
No more to gather in the dark
Pain or laughter now is naught
When piercing rays are forgot

Demand hyperbole to gain the heights
Remain steadfast in solitude
Become the master of appetites
Then run, run to farthest shores
Storm sand castles and endure
Ice cream cones will appear
When she returns for more

Down, down into the pit
Goes our glimmer of relief
Grasping with fervent certitude
Until circumvention is complete
We take a stand and forget
Like men begging for foresight
Whisper to the night


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