Array ( [sid] => 186745 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Younger Stars [time] => 2020-01-08 03:11:11 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I am my own shadow.


I only exist

within the lines

on this page;


my shapeless form,

cast in literary

fabrications

and amalgamated

realities.


A mad scientist

building quazi-poetic

beasts of

distorted dreams;

attainable only

in the keys

beneath my digits.


My keyboard

could speak of dreams

beyond the count

of the stars -


though, the stars

in my sky

are less

than you might find

in New York City -


dotting the expanse

ever so sparsely


as they are drowned

by the lights

of those more

brilliant than they.


To these dreams

I cling

as they lead me

into realms

only the brilliant

travel;


a world in which

I am but a vagabond

silently following

the road;


hoping only

for a weary passerby

with feet as tired

as my own


to sit for a spell

and share tales

of younger stars


in skies

beyond the reach

of arrogant

city lights.
[comments] => 2 [counter] => 146 [topic] => 61 [informant] => Nightwolf [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Younger Stars


Younger Stars
Date: Wednesday, 8th January 2020 @ 03:11:11 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Nightwolf
I am my own shadow.


I only exist

within the lines

on this page;


my shapeless form,

cast in literary

fabrications

and amalgamated

realities.


A mad scientist

building quazi-poetic

beasts of

distorted dreams;

attainable only

in the keys

beneath my digits.


My keyboard

could speak of dreams

beyond the count

of the stars -


though, the stars

in my sky

are less

than you might find

in New York City -


dotting the expanse

ever so sparsely


as they are drowned

by the lights

of those more

brilliant than they.


To these dreams

I cling

as they lead me

into realms

only the brilliant

travel;


a world in which

I am but a vagabond

silently following

the road;


hoping only

for a weary passerby

with feet as tired

as my own


to sit for a spell

and share tales

of younger stars


in skies

beyond the reach

of arrogant

city lights.


This poem is Copyright © Nightwolf


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