Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!
Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com    Poems On Site: 198,500+   Comments On Poems: 427,000+   Forum Posts: 105,000+
Custom Search
  Welcome ! Home  ·  FAQ  ·  Topics  ·  Web Links  ·  Your Account  ·  Submit Poetry  ·  Top 30  ·  OldSite Link 10-June 18:21:19 AEST  
  Menu
  Home
· Micks Shop
· Our eBay Store· Error Submit
 Poetry
· Submit Poetry
· Least Read Poems
· Topics
· Members Listing
· Old Site Post 2001
· Old Site Pre 2001
· Poetry Archive
· Public Domain Poetry
 Stories
· Stories (NEW ! )
· Submit Story
· Story Topics
· Stories Archive
· Story Search
  Community
· Our Poetry Forums
· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

  Site Help
· FAQ
· Feedback

  Members Areas
· Your Account
· Members Journals
· Premium Sign-Up
  Premium Section
· Special Section
· Premium Poems
· Premium Submit
· Premium Search
· Premium Top
· Premium Archive
· Premium Topics
 Fun & Games

· Jokes
· Bubble Puzzle
· ConnectN
· Cross Word
· Cross Word Easy
· Drag Puzzle
· Word Hunt
 Reference
· Dictionary
· Dictionary (Rhyming)
· Site Updates
· Content
· Special Content
 Search
· Search
· Web Links
· All Links
 Top
· Top 30
  Help This Site
· Donations
 Others
· Recipes
· Moderators
Our Other Sites
· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

  Social

Array ( [sid] => 152064 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Caught in a simple flight part 1 [time] => 2009-08-06 20:39:51 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I awoke to the slight sound of bubbling water, somewhere off in the distance. My eyes heavy, like the weight of a hard night pressed upon them. Confused and lost in a daze of colors and somewhat familiar sounds, I try to raise my head the feeling heavenly like floating in a breeze.

I tried to open my eyes. The sun is bright.

I close my eyes again, and lay back watching the vision of colors that dance within my mind; I smell lavender, cinnamon and perfume. I sense this need to dive deep within myself. Memories flaunting to tell me stories.

I fight to open my eyes again, the sun blinding me demanding me to close them to ease the pain. The sky is the perfect blue, not a cloud not a tree. I try to get up; something’s pressed upon my chest, nothing heavy but I still cannot move. I try to struggle; I started to hear the faint sound of music and children’s laughter. I try to look around but I cannot see anything. Exhausted I lie back down, and close my eyes.

Looking down I see a set of tiny little shoes, tiny body and feeble legs. I have a police car in my little hands, sitting on concrete that’s been freshly poured Smooth top perfect to play on. The sun was shinning, my father was young smiling and smoking a cigar. This was the beginning of a new garage, the year was 1978 and I was 4.

Wondering why my memories have brought me here, I quickly turn around; my mother is in the garden planting something. She looks at me and returns back to gardening. I see nothing around me, just the sun the dirt and a smooth concrete pad. The smell of just turned dirt started filling my mind, covering me like sand pushing me away.

I feel happy!

I fall back into the spectrum of color that dances for me, I can hear a song in the back of my mind, and it sounds very far away. I try to listen but the colors demand my attention. I feel that pull again, lavender filling my senses.

I find myself now sitting in darkness; I am shivering and cold wet tears are covering my face. I am cowering in the corner, knees pressed against my chest. I see a light in the middle of my view, closet doors separating me from my bedroom. Fear ripples threw my body, my mothers screaming in the kitchen. I hear my father’s name being screamed over tears, He’s on the road again. Fighting to escape this nightmare I beg the light to change the view, I hear her coming the sound of her feet vibrates off the floor. I grip my fingernails into the young flesh, I feel the trickle of blood my head spins… Radiohead?

I wake up again to the radiating luminescence of the sun; the same light weight, that same bubbling sound. I feel sweat on my forehead, but I am unable to wipe it off. My fingers clenched and I am breathing heavily, I attempt to roll over to get my bearing, these visions tempting me with fear and anger. The music starts again louder, it is Radiohead but I cannot place the song. I start to swim again within my brains; I hear laughter with the strong aroma of cheap cigars lofting threw the room.

I am now sitting in front of a fake Christmas tree; the color of the tree is white. The tinsel is silver and the lights are shaped like icicles flashing blue. My dog snowball is sitting trying to pull off my socks, growling as he makes off with one of them. I see my father drinking with some friends, my mother is making dinner with the look of pure hatred. My brothers and sisters are sitting behind me; whispering words of bitter envy. “Look at all the presents he gets” I hear my brother grumble, nothing but a spoiled brat. Listening I hear the venom in his voice, small drops trickle down my cheeks. A sense of anger swells within me, I feel this need to give him my toys knowing love is better then plastic. I hold the idol in my hand, destruction in my thoughts. I scream in my mind “what do you want with these memories of pain and scorn”?

The room fades to colors again.
[comments] => 0 [counter] => 167 [topic] => 49 [informant] => lostrelic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => mystical )
Caught in a simple flight part 1

Contributed by lostrelic on Thursday, 6th August 2009 @ 08:39:51 PM in AEST
Topic: mystical



I awoke to the slight sound of bubbling water, somewhere off in the distance. My eyes heavy, like the weight of a hard night pressed upon them. Confused and lost in a daze of colors and somewhat familiar sounds, I try to raise my head the feeling heavenly like floating in a breeze.

I tried to open my eyes. The sun is bright.

I close my eyes again, and lay back watching the vision of colors that dance within my mind; I smell lavender, cinnamon and perfume. I sense this need to dive deep within myself. Memories flaunting to tell me stories.

I fight to open my eyes again, the sun blinding me demanding me to close them to ease the pain. The sky is the perfect blue, not a cloud not a tree. I try to get up; something’s pressed upon my chest, nothing heavy but I still cannot move. I try to struggle; I started to hear the faint sound of music and children’s laughter. I try to look around but I cannot see anything. Exhausted I lie back down, and close my eyes.

Looking down I see a set of tiny little shoes, tiny body and feeble legs. I have a police car in my little hands, sitting on concrete that’s been freshly poured Smooth top perfect to play on. The sun was shinning, my father was young smiling and smoking a cigar. This was the beginning of a new garage, the year was 1978 and I was 4.

Wondering why my memories have brought me here, I quickly turn around; my mother is in the garden planting something. She looks at me and returns back to gardening. I see nothing around me, just the sun the dirt and a smooth concrete pad. The smell of just turned dirt started filling my mind, covering me like sand pushing me away.

I feel happy!

I fall back into the spectrum of color that dances for me, I can hear a song in the back of my mind, and it sounds very far away. I try to listen but the colors demand my attention. I feel that pull again, lavender filling my senses.

I find myself now sitting in darkness; I am shivering and cold wet tears are covering my face. I am cowering in the corner, knees pressed against my chest. I see a light in the middle of my view, closet doors separating me from my bedroom. Fear ripples threw my body, my mothers screaming in the kitchen. I hear my father’s name being screamed over tears, He’s on the road again. Fighting to escape this nightmare I beg the light to change the view, I hear her coming the sound of her feet vibrates off the floor. I grip my fingernails into the young flesh, I feel the trickle of blood my head spins… Radiohead?

I wake up again to the radiating luminescence of the sun; the same light weight, that same bubbling sound. I feel sweat on my forehead, but I am unable to wipe it off. My fingers clenched and I am breathing heavily, I attempt to roll over to get my bearing, these visions tempting me with fear and anger. The music starts again louder, it is Radiohead but I cannot place the song. I start to swim again within my brains; I hear laughter with the strong aroma of cheap cigars lofting threw the room.

I am now sitting in front of a fake Christmas tree; the color of the tree is white. The tinsel is silver and the lights are shaped like icicles flashing blue. My dog snowball is sitting trying to pull off my socks, growling as he makes off with one of them. I see my father drinking with some friends, my mother is making dinner with the look of pure hatred. My brothers and sisters are sitting behind me; whispering words of bitter envy. “Look at all the presents he gets” I hear my brother grumble, nothing but a spoiled brat. Listening I hear the venom in his voice, small drops trickle down my cheeks. A sense of anger swells within me, I feel this need to give him my toys knowing love is better then plastic. I hold the idol in my hand, destruction in my thoughts. I scream in my mind “what do you want with these memories of pain and scorn”?

The room fades to colors again.




Copyright © lostrelic ... [ 2009-08-06 20:39:51]
(Date/Time posted on site)





Advertisments:






Previous Posted Poem         | |         Next Posted Poem


 
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.


While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com