The light dims in shallow breathseyes hooded in fatigue, lethargic
tongue listless, dry, dull, beached
hands silent as the chiseled stone
Opinion wans, pales, becomes weightless
and questions are as a breeze to a ghost
insipid days, muted hue, bland as biscuit
where sun and cloud are as passing strangers
Tomorrow matters not and the night,
which was too long, seems too short
as sounds are noticed; a clock ticking
a fan turning, creaks and groans of house
People talk, but it doesn't much matter
and words are exchanged, a currency deflated
late, late, late to the party, not so good when
you, are, are, are the party
Still, I have my friends, warm and toasty
five pounds of fur, nestled tight with pink bellies
they snore and stretch by my side
their king on a pillow, the queen on his lap
2 comments:
How I LOVE the English language. If I am the addict, you are like the best hallucinogenic drug, :-D, a real trip. Now admittedly, I do not speak a dozen other languages, but ignorance aside, the best of them only could be as phonetic. Your word choices therefore are so often a delight to observe, melodious and resonant, and perfectly befitting, like that first sentence that starts fresh on breath and ends spent on the last remnants. Where else does one get words like lethargic and listless and chiseled, just rolling the tongue over the words, singular, is a decadent pleasure, but stop there it does not, for these words do not stand alone but are placed within, but singular notes within the composition as a whole, scaling, dipping, changing and bridging, expressions, wans and muted hues, and my very favourite within this piece, not the obvious choice perhaps, creaks and groans of house, though there was strong competition from a dozen others (a currency deflated esp, warm and toasty, bland as buiscuit, dry, dull, beached...). Bless the pooches and the love they give, even in snores. I know no longer what to say, that is original in any shape or form, truth is, time and again, your writing is just such a delight to read, direct, far-reaching, affective, eloquent and so often very moving. Another wonderful effort, admired immensely.
Come sip from my cup and let your hair down and I will fill your eyes with dreams, your ears with sweet whispers and your heart with the warmth of thrust and parry. :-D
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