Treasure Island

Ananta Madhavan


Dying Dream


The chariot shot down the cobbled slope,
Thundered past the ruins. The wheels revolted
And wobbled off; the axle crashed, the rope
Trailed limp; the yoke lay felled; the horse had bolted.


Tendrils of dream began to tug my eyes
As I awoke to find the white horse gone.
It pawed the ground and fled into the skies
In golden dust it flew towards the sun.

Submitted: Saturday, May 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, May 10, 2014

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Topic(s): dream

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I wrote this after waking up from a dream, when I was forty, glad it
was but a dream. I used the 4-line stanza with a-b rhymes to symbolise my world of order.

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