In the day I trundle on
on the well trod path of men,
Yet in the night I come alive
and I am born again,
I close my eyes and instantly
this world just slips away,
And in its place is another land
and a different sort of day,
It's a miracle of the mind,
A gift we writer's share,
And when we touch our pen to pad
we can take you there.
The tales that we tell you
are like memories that we've made,
And are just as real to us
as those of yesterday,
So close your eyes and let us take you
to the furthest stretches of our mind,
Where love and hope and dangerous thrill
are not so hard to find.
For every tale we can share
is another mind set free,
From the daily woes and drudgery,
That haunt both you and me.
About the Creator
LilyRose
Corporate cog by day, poet by night. Writing is my happy place. Comments, follows and critiques are always welcome!
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
I loved it! Great poem.
Beautiful poem