FLASHLIGHT IN THE FOG
~~~~~~~~~~
in the thick of night,
a beam cuts through the stillness—
truth in the whispered fog
the fog holds its breath,
time bends and stretches,
and I am both lost and found
Poem written for and submitted to "Bite Size No. 120" contest, Line Gauthier, sponsor, August 10, 20205.
The obstacles and dangers are rarely seen
Walking with no lamp in the cold dark night.
When the big moon hides behind the screen,
Flashlight fills the mood in transparent light.
Beyond the scary realm unseen noises reign,
From the abandon overgrown world,
My nature is clear when the flashlight flame
Bring something incomprehensible into my soul.
Weary nights cloaked in the static darkness
My breath being the only sound without sight,
Flashlight in the night being a guardian of bliss
Turning the dark environment into pure light.
Apocalyptic corridors use the night shadows
For the clandestine haunting complex.
But my flashlight is like the old battle arrows
Fly, through the air meet doppelganger reflect.
In the night, seeing flashes of neon light
Our universe waiting for tomorrow to come
flashlight blinding strobe move the frighten sight
to dawn, till all the goose bumps are done.
Ah! Drop your prejudice and hear
I lost my love, fortnights ago
My weeping tears dried-up
Searching for my last name.
With solo flashlight wandering
Among scattered droplets of war.
First Place in HEXASTICH IT Poetry Contest sponsored by nette onclaud
late at night when all people dream
the world is not as it may seem
in the daylight things are less scary
but at night you must be wary
for the darkness that surrounds us all
one misstep and you will fall
into the deep world below
and then you will begin to know
the secrets that we all hold dear
is what you will begin to hear
all are truth and none are lies
this is what will make you wise
for when you are next out in the night
you will bring with you a flashlight
Flashlight: Stranger in the Gangway
The lack of visitors is uterine
and that is why you porcupine
in this dark corner. Here
who can see the cobra
slither from your lips, spray
the phrases of your mind,
slip back to its moist nest.
Here, who can hear the jeer
of cheetah eyes. “Come,”
they cry, “pour on the light.
Your heart I’ll lacerate
with razor fright.”
Donal Mahoney