Lou J. Klaiber
THE POEM… IN SOLITUDE
at my feet!
… broken wing
… as the day
turns to night.
and words fall away,
… far from
… in the whispers
of warm women,
and the midnights of war.
… lies in the warm
of a far place.
A bird in the silence of night.
A cat hunting the ways of the world.
Disguised within a tear of courage,
“I AM A POEM!”
… and then it dies.
… in the darkness
beneath the sound
of a Gun!
©Copyright July 4, 2005 by Lou J. Klaiber
Cal – I know about what you write, my friend. I have a folder of unfinished words: some in lines, some phrases, some verses. I refer to them often but even though very little progress is made, they remain important because they are mine and they are as real as the thoughts that inspired them.
Such phrases as… A suburb of heaven,
and such verses as:
He came at me again last night with weeping skin and vacant eyes
and touched the trigger (in my mind) to self-loathing and hopeful lies.
From his gaping mouth, an ancient dirge resounded in my soul
and held my consciousness at bay as an awful story he retold.
Not with words of mortal man did his reminders fill my ears
but sights and sounds and smells and tastes fuelled my dread and fears.
As I fought his presence off, flesh sloughed wetly from his bones
and juices of humanity scored again my heartsore, soulful wounds.
Ahhh but I digress… your poem is soulful and important. It is a reminder of the pain of the poet; the seekers of words… the seekers of truth!
Tony: July 6, 2005
Very true, my friend… each of us are as One… become the others that walk beside us, and not alone. The soul of us is of no color, nor wealth. We are the frail nestlings of Earth, thrashing our way from the nest. Dreaming of the Sky.
Cal: July 6, 2005