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Midnight Breeze
I wake to the midnight breeze whistling.
I hear my father snoring in the next room.
Lighting a candle croons to my thoughts,
naked in a starlit kingdom, protected it seems
by elaborate paintings of saints on the walls.
Looking through the frosty window,
there the intoxication of all creation
is caught in a flash and forlorn to the moment,
enhanced by the stillness of the street.
It startles me, and I begin to weep indeed.
I am not sure if I am
I am not sure if I am misreading, but the poem seems to imply an eerie feeling in the background. I think the whole poem works well, but it left me---like the best of the ghost stories I have read through the decades---with that uneasy feeling. I used to get that feeling, too, when I had to eat my mother's cole slaw; and, believe me, your poem is far better than her horrific cole slaw.
Starward
Really
I was only trying to create some scene, because while most of my poems are philosophical and borne from invisible ideas I oftentimes despair that i lack the expression of some further elemental certain detailed scenes. I am very glad that you are reading and enjoy my poetry; nice to have your consistent comments.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitues
The philosophical aspect of
The philosophical aspect of your poems reminds me of some of the best of Pop Stevens, arguably America's greatest Poet in the 20th century. And I think he---at the height of his poetic career---struck a balance between the philosohical content and the scene; and often the scene is disposed of in his titles (like one of my favorites, "Mountain Covered With Cats"), and then the poem moves very swiftly into its philosophical presentation. I loomk forward to more of your poetry.
Starward
Existence is All We Get
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Born to bourn out of here, the best is between. Weep it but laugh it and smirk or smile, frown or cheer it in between - it is all there is so enjoy. :D
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...a
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Wise
Yea probably the wisest thing we can realize
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitues