October drizzle and the mercy
of life’s single handed purpose . . .
I’m floating downstream
past the fallen leaves inside my head,
owls whisper in my ear,
the social temptress stands shadowed
behind silent billboards
and cannot touch me as I drift past.
For the night is still young
and as the woods wave me onward
a Buddhist frog catches my eye,
winks a sutra into my face
and I realize that there is nothing
that needs to be purchased.
Oh the devil, he dreams of some plentiful harlot
orgasmic upon his fiery bed,
but my affection is fulfilled
by the fortune granted me in the presence
of my grandchildren.
I am healed by the soft touch
of genealogical fingers,
my weary body is soothed,
caressed by the uncaged serenity of the moon,
the shoddy serendipity of death vanishes
behind the rusty hinged door of denial
and I face the inevitable mysterious journey
with my mind, my heart,
my human spirit anxious,
but calm.
A contest entry
- Goodbye Poetry by poppa.
14089 points, ended October 18, 2008, 57 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Great stuff. I like the fact that this is somewhat of a journey full of sites and sounds and images we cannot pass by.
I look forward to reading more of your work.
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I enjoyed this. I do have questions
Hello!
Thoughts: Life continues on, its purpose is to really live well, and understand that there is a balance, a ying and yang to living and knowing…For all that is, there is also “its” opposite. For that is how you know one thing by knowing its other (opposite). Again... Knowing one, we must know the other, this is the secret to having balance, simply knowing this one thing! It sooths… Then a long the way rebirth comes through other means…. as we continue unafraid and understanding brings the calm of simply being! And then there are the seeds of our generations to come. This is what comes to mind via your poem. I enjoy this ponder...thanks! Pejj
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well done
Lovely poem. Flows well. Good rhythm. Strong imagery. I was somewhat confused in that the poem is set at night yet the title is of the morning.
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Yes, the setting is the night, but I wrote it down this morning, thus, the reason for the title . . . I might change it tho, you got me thinking . . .
thanks,
Marc
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Superb
A very fine write, indeed. As usual, you've expressed your thoughts quite well. Thanks for sharing this one with us.
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