In the dark alleys of my mind
They run about.
Sometimes lost, sometimes found.
Sometimes emerging faintly through the dark
Sometimes vanishing in thin air.
They emerge, only to half-disappear.
Only the sounds of laughter left behind,
Perhaps tiny footprints here and there.
As I sit to recreate these
In dark silent dead nights
On blank non-reflective sheets
Less than half-the-words stare up-
Rest are lost beyond recovery
In the dark alleys of my mind.
Only the sounds of laughter left behind, Perhaps tiny footprints here and there. i love the imagery of these....yes, i know what you mean....these phantom words...
Nice poem. Creates an image which can be felt rather than seen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great use of anaphora in the first stanza, a strong conceit as a whole.