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Turner
February 18, 2015
I once met a man
By the name of
Turner.
Alone in his den
He began
An eloquence of wonders
A past life
Retold and reborn
Captivating me
With colors unseen
And sounds unheard.
This life he spoke of
Was it pure
Or were his words
That floated
Out upon his ethereal lips
Children birthed
From Mother Naïve
And Father Deception
Fooling lost salesmen
Like you and me.
Rather than brooding
Within a lassitude reality,
I go to live in
Turner's memory.
© Sarah M., Phoenix, AZ
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This poem is really just about living in the past. I have always wanted to live in another generation, never this one. Through the character Turner, the reader travels back in time to basically the sixties. That was my main source of inspiration here. The colors unseen were the psychedelic forms of art and the sounds unheard would be the amazing music that came out of that generation, music that would never be recreated.