The Dream With The Master Poem by Nathan Coppedge
The Dream With The Master
The master says...
Not all bubbles are soap bubbles.
Beneath.
My blood is water.
Within.
Soon I will resent myself.
Through and through.
Timbre, timbre.
Pearls falling on the marble floor.
The thoughts of the world that elides.
(heights of genius) .
Friday, March 31, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: genius,inspired,master
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Written on March 30,2017 The poem sums up insights from many previous occasions, specifically plays on words relating to the precarious greatness of extreme inspiration (without drugs) .
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 6:47:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
