Get Your Premium Membership

Dust Bowl Dream

Play a role till the gold of your soul runs dry leave the ghost town far enough behind through the parched winter of the mind search for virgin glitter on the next horizon The sirens sing to endless weaknesses it takes everything not to cave in... again take up the rusted sifter and battered spade while digging for gold you're making your grave ghosts of old town, sliding on down from the mountain Roses are tossed to the echoes of the lost the soul finds a fresh role in the shadow of a dust bowl dreaming.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things