Poems are like lyrical accidents just waiting to happen. Who knows when they will arrive, sprinting or limping from our heads. Start with anything that comes to mind, and develop the poem from that spontaneous place.

This poem is an example of a lyrical accident that arrived “limping from my head” in the early waking hours.


goldentimes jinterwas

The golden interlude between dreaming and sleeping
drew me back into the beckoning half-light
that danced behind my flickering eyelids.
My weightless consciousness hovered in-between times,
straining to escape the netherworld of the soul that sought to
lure me back into the deep bliss of oblivion.
Reluctantly, my hidden neural pathways surrendered
as the sweet embrace of a chimera was banished to an unreachable realm.
I was greeted by a cold, indifferent, dull and grey dawn
that held me in its iron embrace; a merciless master
that dominants and dictates in a world that waxes and wanes.
I now long to return, to be joined once again to that unbreakable silver cord.
An eternal tie that joins dusk, twilight and midnight into a
ethereal state that is confined and defined only by
the possibility of

reverie, fantasy and shadow.



Golden times -you & me- fading into memory.



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