I keep having the same puzzling dream.
I'm chased and I run through the night.
They are hard on my heels, but I'm fast
And I flee - fly - quite thrilled by the flight.
I'm no prey to be caught, hunted down.
I feel strong, in control, and I choose
Hot pursuit, opt for risk, danger, speed,
For as long as I'm swift I won't lose.
Winged. Invincible. Just don't look back.
'Cause the sight really spoils all the fun:
No one follows me, I'm left alone.
End of game. Damn my feet. I have won.
I like this poem; it is clever and well crafted and slightly enigmatic at the end - sufficient to intrigue the reader. Well done
Excellent poem. The thrill of the chase and the thrill of being chased is exciting. But what do you do when you catch the object of your desire or he catches you?
I might be imagining things, Julia the jewel, but I'm relating this to a chase in the game of love. If this is the case, your speaker might want to slow herself down or she may end up missing the love of her life! ! : -) A flying delight of a poem. Warm regards, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quite a victorious dream it is.