An outside-my-window fantasy of memory...
that my eyelids depart upon the
smokeless ashtray
on the dais, a nightgown
of a breeze-
a memory
a sweet release,
entertains my touch and puts my gaze at
ease.
out the wretched window frame
lies the world, soaked
grey in blame:
Can a stare draw such heights
to the only sisters
in the lonely brother nights
that a film as fine as memory
can blind each other's plights?
In any case, within the day
within the intricate green
outside the broken window, in the day
there came a light, within the branches
sparkled shards of leaves inbetween,
smiling while the gaping eye
just glances.
it'd been a long time
since I'd seen
such big arms of light,
coming round to engulf me,
it'd been a long time
since i'd been
that albatross of night,
coming round to engulf her-
the light
it bade me
in sight
and made
my fragile
aperture right.
I was focused
and right.
perched as this bird
without the cloaking of shadows,
time was an age of play and delight
and who knows
that this animal
was after another...
o, in the fields
fields of rice
o, in the grains
crept the mice
o, in the mountains
slept no law
o, in the plains
the hunt was raw
and nothing remained
as there was nothing before...
yet in the grains
the albatross saw
a distinct disdain
but nothing more.
...and then it came
squeals in the field!
alarms in the trees!
like a scream
that ends.
o, in the distance
the fickle breeze bends...
o, in an instance
the hunts commence...
Us two, that bird and shrew,
darted in the meadows
of years,
across the street-
where, through the wretched window
my tired eyes do meet.
Tho' others die and depart
with tortured minds and ailing hearts,
we had the hunt
for our hunger's feed
with
no troubling
intention
to live
to breed.
Poetry by Aven Black
Read 627 times
Written on 2009-10-28 at 01:09
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i, Albatross
born, in the timethat my eyelids depart upon the
smokeless ashtray
on the dais, a nightgown
of a breeze-
a memory
a sweet release,
entertains my touch and puts my gaze at
ease.
out the wretched window frame
lies the world, soaked
grey in blame:
Can a stare draw such heights
to the only sisters
in the lonely brother nights
that a film as fine as memory
can blind each other's plights?
In any case, within the day
within the intricate green
outside the broken window, in the day
there came a light, within the branches
sparkled shards of leaves inbetween,
smiling while the gaping eye
just glances.
it'd been a long time
since I'd seen
such big arms of light,
coming round to engulf me,
it'd been a long time
since i'd been
that albatross of night,
coming round to engulf her-
the light
it bade me
in sight
and made
my fragile
aperture right.
I was focused
and right.
perched as this bird
without the cloaking of shadows,
time was an age of play and delight
and who knows
that this animal
was after another...
o, in the fields
fields of rice
o, in the grains
crept the mice
o, in the mountains
slept no law
o, in the plains
the hunt was raw
and nothing remained
as there was nothing before...
yet in the grains
the albatross saw
a distinct disdain
but nothing more.
...and then it came
squeals in the field!
alarms in the trees!
like a scream
that ends.
o, in the distance
the fickle breeze bends...
o, in an instance
the hunts commence...
Us two, that bird and shrew,
darted in the meadows
of years,
across the street-
where, through the wretched window
my tired eyes do meet.
Tho' others die and depart
with tortured minds and ailing hearts,
we had the hunt
for our hunger's feed
with
no troubling
intention
to live
to breed.
Poetry by Aven Black
Read 627 times
Written on 2009-10-28 at 01:09
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
