This dream is tailor-made

by Cameron

Published November 19, 2006

˜This dream is tailor made," you whisper
beneath a brooding sky: weathered
cornstalks set in contrast to the darker firmament.

˜Only for a moment," she tells you:
trailing fingers tracing the outline of her jaw.
Fumbling lips build arches past
the vestiges of cloud; where outreached
hands may reach and tap the fading sunset dry.

The flash extinguished with the sky
like ephemeral gasps emitted from
this dying moment.

Comments & reviews · 6
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aaoftulsa Comment
aaoftulsa commented Comment · Dec 4, 2006

good work. it says something. its more than just the useless babbling. i look forward to more.

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bubblewrapped
Review
bubblewrapped wrote a review Review · Dec 4, 2006

Wow. Like xantham said, a real breath of fresh air. A balanced, well-organized and well-written piece of work. Kudos to you! Unfortunatley I have no suggestions for its improvement, as it seems pretty much awesome as it is. Will get back to you if I think of something LOL ;)

Cheers,
~bubbles

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BFG
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BFG commented Comment · Nov 20, 2006

Very nice. Good imagery, an abundance of interesting words, and not trying to fit too much into a perfect-length poem make this especially refreshing. Good work. I can't wait to read more!

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xanthan gum
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xanthan gum commented Comment · Nov 19, 2006

A nice breath of fresh air, well-appreciated. I comment only to reassure you of it's worth.

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Incandescence
Review
Incandescence wrote a review Review · Nov 19, 2006

Cameron--


This is nice. Some in-line suggestions:


˜This dream is tailor made," you whisper
beneath a brooding sky: weathered
cornstalks set in contrast to the darker firmament.

˜Only for a moment," she tells you:
trailing fingers tracing the outline of her jaw.
Fumbling lips build arches past
the vestiges of cloud; where outreached
hands may reach and tap the fading sunset dry.

The flash extinguished with the sky
like ephemeral gasps emitted from
this dying moment.


I am no fan of the original ending.


Take care,
Brad



Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.
— Voltaire