Blackened in harmony the muse bows her head
No intents to cold when I bring you in from the rain
Shoulder past burdens on the head of a screw
Capture a lifetime in the glint of your eye
Travel backwards into the gleaming
Watch the sun set on a lifetime of miscarried beginnings
Spend my time drying angles sorrows on the corner of a handkerchief
Embossed with an initial of the one who shall not be forgotten
Give me a reason to try as you turn the page on something new
Its all good reasons I bring you here
To this place
Left alone in my mind
By my side
To believe the impossible
I brush a cheek
WIth the backside of my fingers
As a change in the season
Whispers a breeze on your heart
Its only a choice
In the make believe
I close my eyes
Colours flicker the names
Scribed in sans script
Upon the ache in my bones
Subtle doubts ingratiate my redemption
Lifted on every fourth and fifth flame
Screams raise to the heavens in droplets of crystal clear
Its time for the shadows to fall in the twilight of theatre
Scattered like a playground in the hands of a lazy springtime
Twelve long stemmed roses petaled in black adorn the rusty gate
Purposefully stride in other directions to the glistening hue
And I look to see that my love is still here
8 comments:
Behind all the dark imagery there is a tenderness which lifts the poem into the realm of damn good love poetry.
Always a light side to the darkness penned and you reel with it all love, truly so, amazing poem xoxo
Tender and dark in equal measure...reminding me of someone returning to a love long past.
Yes, even though dark in some places it is nonetheless, beautiful imagery. I'm glad her love is still there too.
Its time for the shadows to fall in the twilight of theatre
That really hit me AG--the whole poem is full of startling images, and also of phrases full of meaning and resonance, but that one got under my personal guard. I like the form here also, the beginning and ending rich and complex, the middle stanzas simple and striking.
Poignant images here of miscarried beginnings and change of the season ~ Still the ending is one of hope and loving memory of a dozen petaled roses ~
great images here..esp. loved..Spend my time drying angles sorrows on the corner of a handkerchief..also scribed in sans script..
dang fine poetry sir...that whole last stanza is rife with excellent lines...the theatre, the playground...the last look....nice...i like the feel as well...though gritty its love as well...
Post a Comment