The Hour Glass

Lying in bed with

arms folded behind my head,

I stare at the hour glass.

Marveling its contents in free fall.

Each grain of sand with purpose,

all fumbling just the same.

One lands on top the other,

bare bodies plummeting.

Bullets tumbling,

spilling into loose change.

Bloody rain drops form a puddle

causing my roof to collapse

as the floor boards give way.

Quickly sinking, I cannot stay.

I am falling naked, wasted

by a gun wanting more

than the quarters I clung.

Only to awake soaking wet

drenched in sweat, thinking.

Was it really just a dream?





Copyright ©2011 Daunt'e Loper







Comments 5 comments

poetvix profile image

poetvix 5 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country.

This was just totally raw, gritty, fierce even! And then, to find it was all "just a dream". You nailed this one.


Daunte Loper profile image

Daunte Loper 5 years ago from Detroit Michigan Author

Thanks poetvix;) I'm glad you enjoyed it


PenMePretty 5 years ago from Franklin

Awesome!


Daunte Loper profile image

Daunte Loper 5 years ago from Detroit Michigan Author

Thank you PMP;)


cynamans profile image

cynamans 2 years ago from Washington DC

Beautiful poem. Voted up and interesting.

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