I live in a green china bowl
A place where the sun don’t shine
Where dreams run wild, looking for an exit, but there is none
Where spider webs are spun and hung
The moaning of the wind through metal frames
No cloud to dream of, no dew to taste, just puffs of smoke to choke on
So lying in the dust, I dream of my favorite place….
Laughter of the youth
Tropical music trills
Chimes in the wind tickle my ears,
Down at the market, in the throbbing heart of Royal Christchurch
The drip splish splash of rain on cobblestone
Mushy apple slushy
Spicy Italian food temp my sensitive nose,
Down at the market, in the throbbing heart of Royal Christchurch
The army of knick-knacks lined up for war
Cats strutting and purring on fences, tails high
The winking crystals a twinkle in suns rays,
on a summers day, in Royal Christchurch
The sweet slice of a star sparks my tongue
Mellow fairy dust, so yummy
The zest of a challenge, a bee sting to my pink tongue
But for now that dissolves from my mind, dashing away, fast as a hare, in to the wild.
Once again I awaken again, in the darkness, lying in the dust.
Dreaming of another place..
Living in a green china bowl…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good. I like it. Can't say I completely understand it all. Sometimes poetry is better if you just feel it and aren't concerned with the exact meaning.