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Melie Bacon Poem
Unalive
I am unalive. I am not dead
but neither do I live: I exist
in black & white, which are uncolors
(mixed together they make gray).
Sight, sound, movement & sensation are
mere mechanics by themselves . . . love lends life
joy & enjoyment. I’ve seen music
dance with emotion; I’ve heard colors sing
in chorus & shadow wooing light. . . your visage
whispers into focus, appearing in the past
tense. Nostalgia recalls better days; intimate,
poignant nights . . . ah, those fragrant, sensuous
nights! Your eyes bristle with reproach
& damn me with disdain. I am reconciled to
remorse. I am unalive. The saline of sorrow
surges to my stubbled, haggard face;
dissipation gnaws neglected flesh & the stench
of stagnation pervades this vacant room . . .
where once the color of laughter rippled like a
rainbow; where now the funereal silence of
solitude enshrouds me in its pall &
my body is the heart’s tomb.
Copyright © Melie Bacon | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Melie Bacon Poem
As the Sun Set
As the Sun set on evening Tide
—sinking slowly into the Sea—
I envisioned Eternity
with you, beloved, by my side.
The rhythmic pulse of ebb and swell
are breath and heartbeat of the Sea
in intercourse with Gravity—
the Sun and Moon’s amorous spell.
The Elements are lovers, too
(every Atom has a mate;
they interact and procreate),
and their offspring are our Milieu.
Pastel rays of heavenly hue
revealed a most romantic sight:
the Earth’s rendezvous with Twilight,
blushing orange, purple and blue.
Copyright © Melie Bacon | Year Posted 2011
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