Wednesday, March 23, 2011


one candle lit
in an old façade of stone
on the tide of forests and night

one stare
across a shifting room
knowing what it seems to mean

one question
tacked to the wall
of portraits much better forgotten

one spring night
serenaded by a budding year
knowing I should wear warmer coats


the walking man said...

I read lines 1,4,7 & 10 and see a complete work. everything else seems like window dressing on a wall with no window.

Karen said...

I agree with TWM. I went back and read it that way and felt complete.

February Grace said...

I loved it.


PixieDust said...

I was intrigued reading as The Walking Man suggested... but far more satiated reading these words as presented...



Anonymous said...

Walking Man and Karen, unlike fiction, I view poetry exclusively about expression rather than serving a defined function or achieving an objective goal. In this poem, I expressed what I wanted. The poem with your construction might be stellar, but it wasn't what I was seeking to express.

Bru and PixieDust, it was a fragmented vision with something common each scene. I was influenced by the view from my train window.