Soon

Cold as water, the escalator cascades.
Floating away, channelled by glass,
I'm out of this shiny mall
and home, via more machines,
to my shuttered room.

The bed is tender, the lamp touch sensitive.
(hands splintered by age,
mottled skin a colour blind test)

I'm hollowed out to a small moment pinched tight.
Within the light is bluish
like the sun shining through ice,
or snow.

I listen for wingbeats,
currawongs familiar.
Ad small scenes luff my mind;
(gravel moving on a river bed)
counterpoint to breathing.

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, AUS

Favorite Poets: Dylan Thomas, T.S Eliot, Stevie Smith, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Marvell, Herbert, Gerald Manley Hopkins, Rilke, Holderlin, Baudelaire, Verlaine, Rimbaud, Valery, Gregory Corso, Alan Ginsberg, Phillip Larkin, Elizabeth Bishop, Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Yeats, Ferlinghetti, Tony Hoagland, Ezra Pound, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Browning, Petra Whiteley, Blake, Thomas Hardy, Syvia Plath, Pablo Naruda, Lorca, Cole Porter, A.E Cummings, Walt whitman, Tennyson, Shelley, Byron, Coleridge, Les Murray, Gig Ryan, Edward Dorn, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Seamus Heaney.

Comments

Roscoe Lane

12 years 5 months ago

I would,

I would not change a thing, i love the way you have taken a simple act, ( returning home from a mall) and developed this terrific poem. The first verse is amazing. Regards Roscoe..

Ian.T

12 years 5 months ago

Ross

Loved the new slant on the shopping arcade, and the reality of home..
Yours Ian. T

Ross Hamilton Hill

12 years 5 months ago

thanks guys

glad you liked it