the images have never died
I live within a daydream still
I have resisted all advice
I searched to find a messenger
but often I would feel regret
then I relied on metaphor
for life is just a beating heart
a shifting star that moves along
to steal our legacy and pride
I knew a stone can never die
so I became a stolid rock
beneath the whisper of a brook
and I may find a place in time
or rest unnoticed by the breeze
if paradise ignores my pleas
a daydream yet is all too brief
few men outlast the final verse
to stay where waters gently flow
but I have left a fragile clue
along the paths of yesterday
where daydreams live eternally
A marvel of a poem. Amazing imagery, great depth. You are at your best. A sure 10.
Thanks as always Nosheen. All poets are dreamers I think. May your dreams be pleasant ones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so I became a stolid rock beneath the whisper of a brook: Great verses depicting the power of a poet's pen.Wispering brook is your poesy, Barry, dwe to live in eternity as a stolid rock!