Daver Austin Poet Free verse

A Late Visitor

A LATE VISITOR

Sleepless, he’d taken seat
In an overstuffed chair

Lamp not lit, nor diversion sought,
Just sitting there

Worrying on about problems of day
Listening for answers night wouldn’t say

                II

I hear wheels of a horse drawn coach
In London Town fog
     “Bring it round, you merry coachman
     Bring it round!”
Off the avenue where I stand
Hat in clouds, shoes on the ground 
The in between a fright and swimming round
Hear?    between those dock, dock sounds
My shouting voice?    
     “Bring it round, you cocksure coachman
     Bring it round!”

               III

All’s quiet
Snow, I’m sure, will drift to ten feet
Outside the window – or more

Old downy dog’s acurl in a corner
When I’m off he’ll choose the rocker

The feeling’s like one preceding
A mystic midnight meeting 
Of spider and fly
Or mice in a breadbox, eating

All’s quiet    all’s well
And the old clock’s ticking…ticking… ticking…

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Joe Maverick June 2, 2012 at 2:45 AM That's it Daver.." This is too reminds me too much of to many winters!! So I shall book to sunnier climes..)

Terry L. Allen May 26, 2012 at 9:15 AM Quite a vintage story here well told. Huggs TLee

Michelle Mac Donald May 25, 2012 at 5:45 AM An amazing write, Daver! It almost feels like an astral voyage where time and place are of no consequence. Small details are the greater part of the whole! Best wishes, Love, Mikki

Andrea Dietrich May 21, 2012 at 9:51 PM it sounds very quaint, like something from Charles Dickens' time!! Enjoyed this!

Elizabeth Wesley May 21, 2012 at 7:53 AM Sounds like an evening of peace and comfort after the outside activity calms down. The dog and other critters give me a feeling of contentment as I sit there too. Just wondering, do we have a fire? Love, Elizabeth

Anne-Lise Andresen May 19, 2012 at 5:13 PM Daver, you are a brilliant poet.....like this alot, very well written. - oxox Anne-Lise

Carolyn Devonshire May 19, 2012 at 1:43 PM These are all very well written, Daver. My favorite is the second one. It made me think of the way Emily Dickinson had the coachman "Death" come to carry her home in "Because I Could Not Stop for Death." Very cool the way you keep the ticking going at the end of the third verse. How I wish I could by "acurl" in the corner with tht old downy dog. I LOVE SNOW. Love, carolyn