I am taking pictures,
Taking pictures with my eyes,
Lids for shutters,
From waking till twilight,
To sun-down from sun-rise,
I am catching memories,
Trapping them behind the nets of my lashes,
Squinting shut the trap doors,
While the rest of the world,
Disappears in flashes,
And there, within my dark room,
I am not merely fast asleep,
I am developing negatives into dreams,
Moments I cannot hold onto,
Into dreams that I can keep,
I am making little wooden frames,
Making frames in my head,
Curling browning corners held down,
Behind the glass lid of my eyes,
Keeping precious buried moments from ever being dead.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Cushion of The Years (Shield against Apollyon)
Tonight, at 51, With the duvet pulled up to my ears, I will play myself to sleep, With the cassette replacement, Of the tape my mother bou...
-
Are you tired, all you introverts? Are you worn out and spent? Are you constantly hounded? Wondering where your alone-time went? Are you sat...
-
The loser wins, The winner loses, The free man cannot, Do as he choses, The first is last, The last is first, The worst is best, The best is...
-
They might mistake me, For a football thug, But I'm drinking herbal tea, From this Hotspur mug, They might mistake me, for a girly boy, ...
No comments:
Post a Comment