The Land of the Purple Sky

April 30, 2009 at 4:38 AM 3 comments

The curtain rises to a brand-old day,

   As the insane infant peeks out a window.

All around abound the good people on their way,

   He wishes he had somewhere to go.

The clouds drift o’erhead reminding him

   Of scattered thoughts lost in the haze…

Like riding a bike or learning to swim,

   ‘Stead he drifts in this magickal maze.

He hears his melodies lilting, softly in

   The background…his soundtrack, his life plays. 

He lazily ponders yet once again…

   ‘Tis weird it is to have his very own.

No crew, no camera, no little green men…

   The sound effects are ne’er over blown.

Yet…

 

© Kevin Sievers  circa 1985

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Entry filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized. Tags: , , .

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3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. theworstat  |  May 6, 2009 at 11:25 PM

    This is nice writing. Thanks.

    Reply
  • 2. me2watson  |  May 2, 2009 at 4:41 PM

    To hell with perfection!
    I like your ‘magickal’. ‘ mazing!

    I know those greenish leprechauns.
    Best keep ’em ‘way from the kid.

    Nice sound effects. Cheerz! UT

    Reply
    • 3. Kevin  |  May 3, 2009 at 1:06 AM

      The ‘k’ has meaning to certain peoples… Wait til I find my other notebooks… There’s a lot more of “the purple sky” to be seen. Thanx again.

      Reply

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