The Endge
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Stephe Watson.
(Thank you Laura Demelza Bosma & Katrina Stewart)
The E(n)dge
I leave damp mudprints
there where I met the shore.
The dragonflies' dances,
the goslings scrammed,
and I for now (or 'lo, for once)
exhaled. Edges do that.
A turtle somewhere spied me
not spying a frog; quick to leap.
And splash! My eyes follow my ears.
A biped clown, here at a threshold.
A stronghold of thrushes.
And red-winged blackbirds...
briefly visiting tufts and reeds.
When I go I think it likely
no memory of me will remain
no indication, no story, no song.
But where my callous kissed
the muck.
Invert puddlings, concentric whorls.
A fish somewhere, like I,
determined to visit an edge.
Marks with its 'foot'prints,
lips breaking the tension,
A visit to the start of Sky...
now gone.
We each leave our prints.
We leave each other's
memories,
in time.
Copyright © Stephe Watson | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment