T I N C T U R E * n o c t u r n a

a flood of wind
has swept away
the idle horses

mares of night
wind whipped
and stirred

black tack
fast against the
warm blonde wood

whitecaps beyond the
stone cast beach
and safety beacons
a half mile flash
upon the horizon

Mirage words in
prevoked tickle
abreveations
rising

there is enough woe
lost to the tides of
histories lapping
like waves pounding
ideals
from an ache

I want to sew up the
torn mirror from which
I fell from
stitchs of light and pain
the seeping darkness
lending itself down the
torrent mystery of the drain

Gitane and a pocket torch

the glimmer of the scene
on the tiles
and the night moving
swift on wings of persistance

sepia tones
against loves bones

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: north ontario, CAN

Favorite Poets: Klo , .., Ida, .., Rhiannon1010, .., Pleiades, .., Valryianne, .., Ester, .., Stephanie, .., Emina Smajevic, ..., Elefentee, ..., Sommer Lyn, ..., Jasmine, ..., Rula, ...

Comments

eightmenout

12 years 3 months ago

As is mostly the case,

I found myself on google to find meaning in your title. And as is often the case, it shed some light on the passages to follow. Outside of what i presume to be a typo in stanza 5, I don't have much to offer other than a thank you for sharing.

Ian.T

12 years 3 months ago

Steve

Loved the intense pictures this gave, though a great sense of loss came out as if it was you crying inside yet the scene was of the coast and a storm, probably depicting that the same stom was there inside:-

Mirage words in
(provoked) tickle
(abbreviations)
rising

Take care, Yours ian.T