in Poetry 94 Words

Flying high

Resting my head on a cloud to dream
I see daylight stealing the starry gleam.

I feel the sunlight pour into my soul
As I skywalk the heavens, take a stroll.

Wings of angels keep me up on high
On ancient pinions, I glide, I fly.

Grabbing hold of time as I drift
Following the sun and stars as they shift.

I cool off into a rain that feels like ink
I see my quill swigging a drink.

Pouring into white of a paper cloud
I ride into a rainbow that has me wowed.

89 thoughts on “Flying high”

      2. Oh ! my ! Charlie , doing the rhyme. That will take poetry to a new level of mesmerism ! I think you can turn your hand to anything , you got the power , Charlie. The power of creative impulse.

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  27. There are a few nice images here, but I think the poem suffers a little from forced rhyming. I think it would also benefit from more metric precision. Perhaps I missed the metaphor of a quill swigging a drink? Is quill a pars pro toto for the bird here?

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    1. I know what you mean , meter and all. Stressed unstressed syllables , I used to be very precise a few years ago , but I now write because I enjoy doing so.
      Thank you for reading ! I appreciate your thoughts.

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