Day: July 10, 2017
He can’t change the locks and stop history,
he looks in the mirror, one of several that surround him…
Oh cruel world.
All that pride, all that humility
in his world of sniffed out ghosts.
Vanish forever, or reflect the way we look at distant things.
The mirror feeds him tall tales.
Can the dream monster be slain?
gliding it’s way through the underbelly of his sleeping house,
a veil that obscures truth.
Can he be tempted with an alluring smile?
She spoke in sentences of six or seven
and charmed the artist to his knees,
though that story was never proven.
With the camera packed away, and a full stop in place,
he is alone with his dry mouth, toying with chance.
“why can’t old men be happy and crazy
and learn to know the dancer not the dance”
To COMMENT go to http://www.daveyoungpoet.wordpress.com and CLICK on my new webpage GRATIA
A day spent drinking the salt breath of the sea,
Surprise, as my lengthy word silence is kick started
as we toil over the stations wooden bridge.
A crumb of comfort, if comfort comes in crumbs.
Time may make sense of this, but I doubt it.
A single line can take an hour or more,
then labour on the page as if positioned with little thought.
It should have motion, be animate,
so with that in mind we lift up our skirts and run.
Sliding doors clack and click. Our carriage pulls away
like a weary child, rattling a fence with an errant stick.
To READ and COMMENT on the full poem go to http://www.daveyoungpoet.wordpress.com and CLICK on my NEW webpage GRATIA