He follows you, silent
Gliding, dark-cloaked, invisible
As whispering eddies in the night.
Through streets shrouded
In simple shadows, and light
As pallid as the Sun in winter
Kissed skies.
Across cobble and path,
Through doorways abandoned
As cold as hoar-frost mornings
Creeping tentacles brushing
A shoulder of flame.
In ancient corners, windowless
Led deep within a labyrinth moon,
A face forms shapes melts
Features upon your flesh,
A windless sea carries call to home
Acceptance sighs to welcome.
Advertisements
I always ‘see’ your poems – I am more visual than verbal but you paint it so well I cannot help but watch the film you start up in my head.
Thank you , Chris! This is a little bizarre following your previous comment (and my reply) about you seeing my words as scenes – but I’m thrilled that you do! This piece is definitely supposed to stir a visual: glad you got it!
I agree – this poem is evocative. Generally, I get lost in your poetry, Chris, which is just lovely!
Thank you, Mary, that is a lovely thing to say. I am pleased that the words I write touch you.
The imagery is wonderful.
Thank you so much.