Between the frightened, timeless trees
Upon the path I see her dancing
Naked breath from her entrancing
Fairy hand to me extending
From her Gemini mouth escaping
Words that never have one meaning.
East of midnight her body calls
Lays me down among the rushes
Clouds of sighing purple sullen
Oblivion rain upon me falling
Drowning in the riverbed
A darkling ghost upon the rocks
Without my mind to follow suit.
We were two hands on a timeworn clock
That chimed the hours out of tune.
Together for a dissonant minute,
Pushed apart by angry seconds
Leaving only the tired gray silence in between.
-Stephen P. Smith
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I’m sorry but I think I must have been dreaming, because I could have sworn I just had dinner with you and yet it’s impossible, as whoever wrote this is out of this world!
I can’t tell you how much I love especially the last part. Wow.
Interestingly, it seems you’re not the only one who liked that last stanza. As always, thank you for visiting and leaving such kind words.
Excellent.
Thank you. I try.
This poem when read aloud captures certain essences of time… it also captures longing and emotions to delicate to pt into words… yet you managed to do so beautifully… kudos
Thanks! It was a tough one to write. There were a lot of things I had to get in perspective so it would read as a poem. I’m glad you liked it!
Yeah, this is pretty awesome.
Thanks, Lolly! Nice to see you again!
Perfect words in perfect order.
That’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?
To me, this reeks of aging melancholy, probably as it should.
It’s a slice of your heart that we often don’t see.
A bit deep for the likes of me but understandable and enjoyable as well.
~m
Thank you, ~m. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it.
Sorry, I meant to say how much I loved those particular italicized lines.
~m
You’re forgiven.
Apparently you’re not the only one who liked that stanza.
Count me among the fans of that stanza.
Thanks Sam! It seems that last one was a hit!
I cried. Twicee. See I can’t even type. Twice.
Ali, any time I can move you to tears, I feel like the poem is a success.
Me too. Those are song lyrics. Contact a band quickly.
A special thank you to you for your bravery in sharing this private part of your life right now.
I’m thinking of you.
Ali
Thanks for dropping by and leaving such a thoughtful comment. Your kind words mean more than I can say.
Hey Smith,
Now this is what I was talking about. When you find that place where your poetry lives, no one does it better. Perfect from beginning to end – imagery, metaphor, gut-cutting in the gentlest way. Sad but oh so beautiful.
Well done my friend.
Annie
Thanks for the kind words. Yes, I do think this is one of my better efforts.
“No one does it better”. Hm, it’s been a long time since a woman said that to me.
Unfortunately, oftentimes when I “find the place that my poetry lives”, the door is locked and has a sign on it that says, “Go Away!”. As I’ve said before, I genuinely admire folks like Sarah and Ali who can write so much quality poetry. I still have a few kicking around in my noggin’, though, so stay tuned.
And as always, thanks for stopping by!
Ive had to read this a few times to really get into it . . to feel it . . to truly understand what you’re putting forth, and what I’m wanting to take from it.
“Brilliant” doesn’t seem enough to describe this poem, Smith. I’m willing to say it’s one of your best.
Hey, Red! I do think this is one of my better ones. I’m glad you think so too.
Smith!
Smmiiiiith!
Shape up!
Where the hell are you?
Post a porn video if you have to for God’s sake!
Smith!
Smmmmmmmmiiith!
~m
ps. I’m going to use some serious HTML tomorrow in a comment if you don’t show your face . . .
Hey, calm down, Tiger! I just posted something special, just for you!
btw- the Dark Knight? Good God. How good was that?
Well, I TOLD you you’d like it. You never listen to me!
Shape up!
Now you’re repeating yourself. Bad habit for a writer.
It’s been a real pleasure discovering your work here. Fantastic.
Hey, Brad! Thanks for stopping by. I’m glad you like what you see. Hope you’ll stop by often.
love disappointed inspires some beautiful prose, does it not? and i suppose we can at least be grateful for that. metaphor, imagery – perfectly placed – the quiet rhyme doesn’t intrude on the intent. beautifully executed.
sarah
Thank you, Sarah. Yes, I do think this was one of my better efforts. I’m glad you enjoyed it.