Mystic Rose Rose Poet Limerick

Overture

Encapsulated in a world of duty and obligation 
I see no room for fantasy or imagination 
no wind of September
can ever dismember 
the longing I feel for illusion, fantasy and excitation

Only the stars of heaven can throw me a rope 
at night when I sleep, its the only time I cope    
the moon  
is my woon  
up there in the sky its the only thing that floats like hope. 

September 23, 2021

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Michelle Faulkner September 25, 2021 at 9:32 AM Yes, we must chase that illusive moon of imagination, you have captured that longing so eloquently~

L Milton Hankins September 24, 2021 at 8:58 AM Fine limericks, Vie. Superb writing. Your images are so distinct.

Delice Arleen Skelly September 24, 2021 at 8:47 AM Your right, some nights when the moon is particularly beautiful hope rises...Delice

Vijay Pandit September 24, 2021 at 6:07 AM The only thing that floats like hope--so well written, Vienna.

Christuraj Alex September 23, 2021 at 10:23 PM Oh! Such a beautiful poesy!