Poet in the Rain

Melancholy wisps of feelings silent slip to come firmly into place,

then lock themselves tightly in as a broken puzzle would

in mass confusion, spaces filled with misaligned

if not brooding pieces were lifeless left, to complete the mess

and in nightmare could provide the stress not assigned

while I sit and stare off into a simple, soundless empty space

no thoughts given to the cause. Nay, no to any trace.

Mental grown rose petals there,

that once caused thoughts to stop and stare

now dark turn and tumbling fall from God’s sweet grace.

Broken free from their mother’s wooden lifeless teat

cast off, forced off, did they not cry out at the rend?

or, instead dead were before the end,

lost their hold on natures life granting seat.

Brittle left, fragrance gone, surrendered to the wind,

they then come and crumble into nature’s waiting soot

to disappear where they landed put

no comment, no word, no letter did they outward send

and there a part of earthen soil their ashes soon with little thought

of how once their beauty had with awe been sought

now beneath a crushing careless boot to death are put

while stale grey, ink-grey clouds leaded down with heavy remorse

stretch out flat across the gentle, blue-stained concourse

where no winged, hopeful creatures will be or have taken to the air

none could as simply put there are none who any longer care

no simple thoughts of buoyant anticipation that realm did or could open

share

with another, while damped down, smashed down, in growing depth of

deadly deep despair

while bottomless waters lap at the oar-less boat left floating, drifting with a

cut and trailing rope

that lay drifting in a twisted, curving line.

The craft’s destination left unplanned.

Its cockpit deserted, empty and unmanned.

Boat and line left floating without any clear design

of goal to reach, no course in mind, no map or compass to remind

but trailing, points the way back to where once lived hope.

But hope has passed away, and no longer has its due;

for hope had perished, left to lay still and lifeless

upon the dock where once the world seemed so bright and strife-less.

But then despair—— its life coldly, boldly took and slew

before turning to slice a cut through the boats single safety line

that never had before lost its contact with the safety of that which once kept the craft tethered unharmed through the moving, ever changing passage of

what we call time

but in this wild purchase of despair that which we called protector, safety

calmly slept.

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By Gordon Kuhn

Author of Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems
Buy or view the book at:
http://www.amazon.com/Widows-Cliff-Other-Poems/dp/1451534493/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1290915007&sr=1-2

OR You can go to Barnes & Noble and order it there.
Simply type in The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems in the search box and order the book.

MY BLOGS:
Poet in the Rain: https://gkpoems.wordpress.com/
Thoughts: http://gordonwrites.com/
Prince of Dan: http://theprinceofdan.blogspot.com/

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