Yellow Ochre Pond
I used to dream of yellow mud,
well more like yellow water
stained with yellow ochre
clay, so vast, in it I felt so good.
In this I swam, just like an eel,
in creamy dream of yellow
feel; other people swam about
as shoals of fish , or netted trout.
Ochre pressed against my skin
like custard spread on rubber thin,
I spun my body round and round
like a crocodile does in his pound.
In this dream, I felt so free
the me in there, was the me in me,
shoals that swam around my pond,
were souls, unfound, on solid ground.
Decades pass and I can see,
the me in there, that’s the me in me,
but nowhere now can I retrieve,
that creamy, dreamy fantasy.
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.
