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Array ( [sid] => 155104 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => round in circles [time] => 2009-11-18 00:19:40 [hometext] => havnt posted for a while. [bodytext] =>
The feet drag
Like the clock on the wall watched for too long
And the dust stirred up like dreams
Cannot soar on a breeze
As there is not a breath here
So they fall once more to the floor
Just out of reach
Just enough
To be forgotten.
And the feet drag on
Step by step to a beat long gone
Somehow still remembered
Passed on from working father
To working son
Until all that remains is a footprint
Amongst the dust
To be swept away with the memory itself.
Break these chains
To break the cycle
As these miles beneath my feet
Begin to bring my end to the start
Blind and struggling for breath
As this birth becomes my death.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 191 [topic] => 21 [informant] => JT [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )

round in circles

Contributed by JT on Wednesday, 18th November 2009 @ 12:19:40 AM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

The feet drag
Like the clock on the wall watched for too long
And the dust stirred up like dreams
Cannot soar on a breeze
As there is not a breath here
So they fall once more to the floor
Just out of reach
Just enough
To be forgotten.
And the feet drag on
Step by step to a beat long gone
Somehow still remembered
Passed on from working father
To working son
Until all that remains is a footprint
Amongst the dust
To be swept away with the memory itself.
Break these chains
To break the cycle
As these miles beneath my feet
Begin to bring my end to the start
Blind and struggling for breath
As this birth becomes my death.

Copyright © JT ... [ 2009-11-18 00:19:40]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: round in circles (User Rating: 1 )
by northernlights on Wednesday, 18th November 2009 @ 05:12:00 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

don't leave it so long next time! great write really captures a feeling of futility and monotony love the line,'to be swept away with the memory itself.'

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