To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
WAITING Every evening, trying to conserve A reserve of moments as the light Fades and darkness descends: a Futile effort to contain a cycle Of certainty. From my window, A montage of prickly bits of a Holly bush and a fence, framed In a rectangle of striated Shades of blue. An easel of pastel, royal, indigo, Navy, ending in eternal ebony. Dreading the night, the loss Of vista, the lack of shadow And silhouette to track The passage of time. Stars obscured by city lights, My window misplaced to trace The orbit of the moon. Blind Nights as sightless as Dismantic oracles. Any Occurrence possible: the Onset of madness, sadness or A manifest manticore. Mouthing my mantra to recall The promise of another day And of rectangular light while The seconds of night count A ticktack. 28,800 ticks To anyone such as I, awaiting An intimation of illumination. |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!