White Clouds


I see the tall white clouds
through the open window
flung wide as a gate
to the infinite blue sky.

The light breeze lifts a kite
to a lofty altitude
where it shudders and spins.

The mountainous clouds
drift slowly as white
epilogues -- epilogues
in the making,
not judgmental,
not just yet,
just there.
Catching my stare,
The clouds ask,
"what? what?"
I realize clearly
I'm not ready.



pjk







Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 631 times
Written on 2011-03-16 at 16:30

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Rob Graber
White clouds as the "pearly gates"?! Andre Chenier has his young heroine cry, "Je ne veux pas mourir encore" ("I don't want to die yet"). Leave it to the French to come right out with it...
2011-03-19


Rob Graber
One lives for several decades,
And still feels so often
Unready
(for what?)
Not to mention
Unsteady


Enjoyed this write!
2011-03-17


John Ashleigh
I think change in general is a sometimes difficult thing. I really enjoyed this poem, it has so much flare. Thankyou for sharing.

Regards,
John.
2011-03-16


NicholasG
I easily relate to this Peter. Let's park the winged chariot for now. I look forward to seeing clouds without the immediate thought of "Where's the shovel!"
Thanks,
Nick
2011-03-16