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smoke
May 13, 2015
Smoke swirls
fingers curl
souls drift upwards
to join the colored clouds
Balloons follow pursuit
floating by gently in the breeze
their strings intertwining
with lost wishes,
hopes and dreams
The subtle branches
always reaching upwards
toward quiet whispers
of silent pleadings
Through a keyhole
one can see all
the beauty
and pain
That comes from being lost
© Simone P., Summerville, SC
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This article has 3 comments.
Deep, painting an incredible picture. I love it! I agree with @Beila in that the stanzas seem a bit disconnected, but I feel like it adds to the smoke feel of the poem--it kind of slips through your fingers, in and out and onto something else. Well done!
A_Wanderer GOLD said...
on Jun. 5 2015 at 11:02 am
Wow, thank you so much! :)
This is a really interesting piece of poetry. The title caught my eye. I think what's unique about this poem is that there's this feeling drifting throughout that something magical and ethereal is about to happen. However, the pieces feel a little disjointed to me in terms of subject matter. It's hard for me to make the connect between the smoke and balloons rising and the sense of being lost. Still, the four stanzas somehow truly come together cohesively. I like it--this made me think. :)
written in class