Poetry / dreampoem
when I looked up
from the typed sheet,
the painter must have left
his heart must have been stolen
the owner was half painted
the rest was lines
a drunken paint-by-number
the girl was too.
the fulcrum at her head
they were beautiful gymnasts
but only for a second,
when a bold painted red
streak appeared over the front
of his pants, he turned to me
with fury
the gun
in his pocket
look heated,
redder than the streak
across his groin.
the girl ran forward
through the field of
grain, the most
colorful thing i have
ever seen,
the man drew his
revolver and fired twice
she was too far to see
her fall.
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Dreampoem, eh? Does that mean this is recounting a dream? Because otherwise I’m not really sure of the subject. I liked it a lot anyway though, the images were quite vivid and definitely popped out at me, the exact way I want them to when I read poetry.
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