PLAISANTERIE
"I hope the noise doesn't disturb your prayers,"
says the man come to clean my room.
His tone and question catch me unawares -
you'd think he'd come to sweep a tomb.
Which, all things considered, isn't far wrong
given the life I seem to have led.
The man's earnest, and the temptation strong
to tell him to lightly vacuum the dead.
***
says the man come to clean my room.
His tone and question catch me unawares -
you'd think he'd come to sweep a tomb.
Which, all things considered, isn't far wrong
given the life I seem to have led.
The man's earnest, and the temptation strong
to tell him to lightly vacuum the dead.
***
Labels: poetry
Selected by SPECKLED_BAND |
21:25 |
4 Comments:
Brevity..apparently the soul of powerful poetry as well. This one has an element of great loneliness. Evoked dark, Wuthering Heights sort of imagery.
This, I like very much
Finally something here which compels me to comment. Brilliant!
Very Ezekielish, though I don't know if you'll take that as a compliment.
"Our silences betray us friend, I said,
He was past believing, I was old,
Collected all our prayers and they were cold,
Among the voicelss millions of the dead."
On a related note, am rather enamoured of your deft a/b/c/b/c/a scheme, the one you usually employ.
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