Your Poetry Dot Com - ~Straw to salutation~

Array ( [sid] => 156409 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => ~Straw to salutation~ [time] => 2010-01-01 08:59:21 [hometext] => ~Deep thoughts for the NewYear~ [bodytext] => ~Straw to salutation~

Vacillating hands meet the incubus,
A new time has landed on me,
Shoving and pushing my resolution,
Is it set yawning in my future.
Cast the last year out shredding
The past of yesteryear I know that,
This year will be better, at least I
Am above ground. Sucking on the
Ashes of the fire that burnt out of,
Long ago still ride along the new,
Impression on time that meander through
My mind. Conclusion becomes lost,
My veracity is abode in a place
That I do not longer memorize.
Captured dreams of long ago fade,
And take there place in the abyss of
Unstructured grains of sand that turn
In the hourglass of time. The vigor of
Being still drive at me, calling out to me,
Asking to be set free, and siesta through
The waves of time. Weary I save the last
Straw to salutation for the new year
as it creeps at me new but yet old….
Inkmaster [comments] => 1 [counter] => 176 [topic] => 13 [informant] => inkmaster [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 7 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - ~Straw to salutation~

~Straw to salutation~
Date: Friday, 1st January 2010 @ 08:59:21 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: inkmaster

~Straw to salutation~

Vacillating hands meet the incubus,
A new time has landed on me,
Shoving and pushing my resolution,
Is it set yawning in my future.
Cast the last year out shredding
The past of yesteryear I know that,
This year will be better, at least I
Am above ground. Sucking on the
Ashes of the fire that burnt out of,
Long ago still ride along the new,
Impression on time that meander through
My mind. Conclusion becomes lost,
My veracity is abode in a place
That I do not longer memorize.
Captured dreams of long ago fade,
And take there place in the abyss of
Unstructured grains of sand that turn
In the hourglass of time. The vigor of
Being still drive at me, calling out to me,
Asking to be set free, and siesta through
The waves of time. Weary I save the last
Straw to salutation for the new year
as it creeps at me new but yet old….
Inkmaster

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