Flights of Imagination
They scatter allusively then gather once more in a flock.
Lady Fortune's wheel spins and spins;
She scoffs and mocks and grins.
Fate is dead.
Twirls her ribbon, bloody red overhead like a lasso.
Running
Running
And the light has yet to catch us.
Running
Find the shadows where we can laugh.
Find the mouth of a mine shaft where psych's learn because fantasy sweetly ferments.
Then it churns.
Like knocking back a glass of ‘what's it called'
That burns the good burn and warms the belly.
Drop down, stop, shock, turn the brain to jelly.
Where we can laugh to catch a breath and leave off sighing.
To be abysmal, not stern.
Calm with life.
Running
Where we can laugh
Burning chaff
Where the light has yet to catch us.
poem by Brian Arguello
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
