The Sand Man is that metaphoric fellow we cannot keep our hands on, because his life is just so out of order
Scattered showers pour heavily in one place
The sun is shining specifically on one soul,
The moon is beaming and
one nation is dressed in light
I'm stuck in the atmosphere;
twirling inside a black hole
An atom crashed inside my heart
I'm bleeding sand,
Each grain forms with the wind
resembles the shape of some man.
I pat him lightly,
trying to keep him together
but he befriended the winds
and blew far away
now I'm empty again...
My arms blew off from the force
and I'm twirling
in the atmosphere
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|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|I find much to relate to in your verses here, Rene. Coincidentally, I have a story posted here at AD entitled, "The Sandman." Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by Sheila Roy
|Wonderfully imaginative. Hugs,
|Reviewed by Chris Wright
|Hmmm it must be fate but I wrote something that mirrors your poem It's called the End of Sandman. It may not be as good as yours but I'll let you read it for yourself. Nice Flow.
"The End Of Sandman"
I hear her biological clock ticking
But what she doesn't know is
I too have a pelvic pendulum
Want Deeply to Tick with her Tock
Yet time is a fugitive
So little we have
and I'm tired of chasing sunsets
So I chase her to her door
In hopes to place her minute hands in my hour hands
Watch as she resists my touch time after time
Yet she gives in to my kiss
As she releases the waves of her lips over mine
Draws back and forth like the smoothest tide
Until my sands are drained and
I am left an empty bottle floating
in the ocean of her arms.
By Chris L. Wright
|Reviewed by Bernice Angoh
|This is very creative and extremely unique.|