Afore the dusk
My soul's frail, lone, and goner
Sadness cover' me like a busk
Concern' who's to be the new coiner?
While only nix available was flunk
Onset of the defunct night.
I falter in gripe on the cot
Just as a caged cat surround' by rats
My soul start' roving around the spot
The air taken began choking
As helpless baby, my elephant was on squat
I thought the defunct bell was ringing.
After a deep sleep
I woke to get myself in fear
Enclos' by bystanders in weep
My floor fill' with drops of rain
Us' as arctic for the high degrees
All were mysteries of the defunct night.
Categories:
coiner, fear, gothic, scary,
Form: Other
to splash …
words like watercolors
dialect, dripping …
a canvas of cognition
soft-stained with dreamy notion -
tinged with tender twilight
and sins invoiced …
oh, to throb a heart
or draw the briny issue of an eye …
to mutter of the ages
or a meadow of highland heather
to change a mind
or a world
with phrase alone …
what more could a soul ask
but (gently) this?
no blushing reach
or starry vault
could e’er match the wonders
of simple pen and page
put to task by one
foolish man’s meandering …
and his child’s heart
I …
of all such beasts
am blessed …
indeed.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 10, 2022
Categories:
coiner, appreciation, joy, poetry, poets,
Form: Free verse