The Cutting Room

Poet's Notes

(Show)

Become a Premium Member and post notes and photos about your poem like Marcus Whitnell.

the sounds of the night desert me my mind seized by ill-fates once more as ripples dispatched by the ferry lick down this plutonian shore dark deeds in my lifetime like flotsam sailing passed in the after-light gloom arrested in moments so shattered and birthed from my cutting room womb memories I locked in dark corners the ones that break silence at night festering fears held for too many years malignance I can’t overwrite but the ferryman points one gnarled finger at me, then the scenes floating by his empty black eyes hold mine for a while then he turns with a near soundless sigh he claimed no coin for their passage each fare paid in full long before remnants returning to whom they came from and I draw in night’s sweet air once more

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.