Lost

Fistful of released,
Coins in the raining,
Beautiful tone,
Striking the wooden counter.
Twisting in turns standing.
Heads or tail,
Will be the end of enteraining.
Closely in paying attention to what is being spoken,
In the box step of the spin,
Amuzed in meaningless.
What fascination in drifting.
Matter beyond what,
Only enjoying a measureful spoon of time from the parallel of this world.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace