poetry

Gateway

Pretty bubbles, another one of my recycled posts for today’s prompt. I’ve been meaning to bring this one back from the dead, I had written this many years ago in something of a haze-like environment. This poem/song symbolizes a period in my life which may not return as easily from the grave as the poem. I hope it doesn’t for once is enough to have experienced it, the period has a gateway effect and I now believe in the security of bolted premises. Anyway, I do like what came out of it so I hope you all enjoy it as well.

Pretty Bubbles
Blowing pretty bubbles into the air,
Feeling that little tingle better beware,
Of the tree hugging lepricon stealing your soul
Give him some magic and lay out that bowl.

Blowing pretty bubbles into the air
Don’t let my momma catch me in this fair.
Jesters and pixies all blow out their dust.
Deep in the tidal wave the old man combusts.

Pretty bubbles swim in my tune
I’m closing my eyes and off to the moon.
You’re holding the teddy bear in your sweaty palm.
Little boy run home i’m dangerously calm.

Pretty bubbles don’t take too long
I’ve run out of soap; feeling withdrawn.
Searching for a hole to blow through
A hole to bring forth the pleasant you.

So pretty bubbles,
So pretty bubbles,
Sing me my song
It’s getting harder for me to sing along.

So pretty bubbles
Let go of that gate,
Fly to your home,
Nobody loves to be on his own.

Pretty bubbles don’t leave me alone.

Daily prompt Gate

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