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Trinkets and Whispers (Fey: Implied)
by Alison McKenzieThese are my secrets,
Those unspoken observations
At the end of a day
When the sun is hiding
Far away on Pacific shores,
And the birds are thick
With music from other lovers.
If you looked very closely
With eyes not burdened
By ordinary spectrums,
You might catch a glimpse,
Trinkets and whisperings
Dangling from my wild hair,
My private symphony
In this speechless city.
Yesterday I sat
Under every tree in the park,
Quieted the restless trusses,
Waited for one small salutation
Or objection.
I listened with every cell -
There was neither breath nor pulse.
So, it is a time of thickening,
Of still depths and solitude,
Of lucid dreams and
Noiseless contemplations,
Not quite a meditation,
This unaccompanied sojourn
Into an unaccustomed world.
10/09/2011 Posted on 10/10/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 10/10/11 at 04:43 PM ... outstanding..... |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 10/10/11 at 06:18 PM stunning imagery. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/10/11 at 10:55 PM Both beautiful and sad, Ali. Very well put together...expressed. :o) |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 10/11/11 at 10:26 AM You've decorated this scenario with animistic melancholia, but the real achievement here is the sense of claustrophobia induced by the deceptively 'open spaces' in which your subject (no assumptions :) strives for animation. Short version -- I enjoyed breathing your atmosphere... |
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