TB ( / )


Every night I must give up to
the next day
Grow tired, retreat and fade away
My heart calling out for more time
My thoughts drifting off among
the sublime
So I pray in the spare
of lucidness
My hopes, my dreams,
my willingness
Yet into sleep I dive
full forward hurl
This other world might weigh
my mortal soil
To steal along the rich
and heady clay then
Slain by rising violins
So I must fall
And thus...I just fall...

User Rating: 4,8 / 5 ( 24 votes ) 29

Other poems of BELL (37)

Comments (29)

Tailor, I like this one so much I am going to write my own version. It is part of the thought process of everyone who has lived. Jim
'So I pray in the spare of lucidness' Excellent... Colin J...
A wonderful presentation concerning those hazy moments before sleep. A really enjoyable poem, well done. Best wishes, Andrew
a routine affair has been made made in to an exciting thing.powerfull write.posted 10 for u surya
Beautiful poem. Very nice indeed.
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