Wait.
I said... wait.
Can't you listen
To yourself?
Violent waves crash against
Castle walls
Seeping into bedrooms
Filling cellars and
Rotting wood
A dream
A reality
Time will tell.
An illusion of grandeur
A sweeping hand across
A sweat soaked brow
Working, mulling over
Endless thoughts of
Pleasantries.
YOU ARE READING
Dumping Grounds
PoesiaSometimes when you are dumping your mind, poetry arises. In this anthology, travel with me to dreamy places or the dark corners of my mind, perhaps invoking the writer in you. I hope these pieces speak to you in some way as they have to me. Dumping...
