Creative Mind

Wobbling of crow's wings,

I hear

As I am pushing up against the sun.

The clouds are low today

And the wind blows the lakes

Into wavering blankets.

I walk up a lonely river,

To get to the house

Where I wait for my imagination

To take me back out

I see taunting visions of

Barreled vaulted ceilings

And Lancelot

And long, lengthy green labyrinths   

And it never feels real enough

How do I get out?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Always 100% ready for criticisms 

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sootyash's picture


I'm not really a critic. However, I enjoyed this read. Sometimes it is real hard to get out of the labyrinth. The imagery you created has sent me straight into it. 

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