Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

In The Secular Night

 In the secular night you wander around
alone in your house.
It's two-thirty.
Everyone has deserted you, or this is your story; you remember it from being sixteen, when the others were out somewhere, having a good time, or so you suspected, and you had to baby-sit.
You took a large scoop of vanilla ice-cream and filled up the glass with grapejuice and ginger ale, and put on Glenn Miller with his big-band sound, and lit a cigarette and blew the smoke up the chimney, and cried for a while because you were not dancing, and then danced, by yourself, your mouth circled with purple.
Now, forty years later, things have changed, and it's baby lima beans.
It's necessary to reserve a secret vice.
This is what comes from forgetting to eat at the stated mealtimes.
You simmer them carefully, drain, add cream and pepper, and amble up and down the stairs, scooping them up with your fingers right out of the bowl, talking to yourself out loud.
You'd be surprised if you got an answer, but that part will come later.
There is so much silence between the words, you say.
You say, The sensed absence of God and the sensed presence amount to much the same thing, only in reverse.
You say, I have too much white clothing.
You start to hum.
Several hundred years ago this could have been mysticism or heresy.
It isn't now.
Outside there are sirens.
Someone's been run over.
The century grinds on.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - In The Secular NightEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

Top Margaret Atwood Poems

Analysis and Comments on In The Secular Night

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem In The Secular Night here.