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Open Poetry #46
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He was Tragic
| Open Poetry #46 |
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He was Tragic |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
He was tragic And to the night he wept With the solace of the wind Resting at the back of his hands, The point of his stare So clearly drawn out With each breathe, each fog of cold air Lasting through the murmurs of the sea Of the front of his feet, The front of the clockwork of animals And strangers that passed through Each and every night Each counting their blessings, Like poets do when they hear a clap so faint, Even their mothers from another era Can pause and smile so quaintly Their neighbors will nod as they sleep. And to the night he wept So far as the linger of darkness finally left And with a smile and a force so large He carried his stick to the pond, As the animals watched A man stand so tall On the foot of his own castle. [This message has been edited by Tomer (04-05-2010 11:00 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2010 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved | |||
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Wow! Why are there no replies to this? "And to the night he wept" - what an exquisite line, in an exquisite poem! Owl |
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Tomer Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168Michigan |
Happy you enjoyed, Owl! Take care. Cheers Tomer |
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