Impromptu
an orange is an
orange it says
what it is
but i'm being
led on by
blinder covered
eyes trying to
catch my own
kind of
orange
i'm not a
rib cage
showing future
smelling
of glue
horse
or
a borage leaf
long earred
mule
nor an donkey
correctly
i am an
ass
but
still only trying
to catch that
which dangles
before
me
though not
knowing if
i go around
in circles the
same stomping
grounds as a child
but now older but what
if it's that myth the grand
if of all ifs that no longer can
sit
it needs to
be propped
up but can
no longer
prosper
as once
the
great
american
dream
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
