Half Light
Below the mirrors of the bridge
Grazing stupored in their paper cups
Lapping the silent mouths of fish
Sipping oil from a broken moon
Listlessly the night chugs past
Whining horns blow cringing notes
Geese-stunted by the city's stench
Retching-heaving factories stare
Blandly at the corpse of sky
Buzzard neon climbs the boards
Bleeding over vagrant trees
Selling lifestyle-beauty-dreams
And death in pale-slim paper sticks
Forlorn, an all too skinny girl
Scratches fish nets laced up boots
Smiling thinly dry and cold
The night’s familiars-patrol her patch
Wolfwhistling beaming cars compete
For an inch of flesh, served up warm
Beneath stale blankets-soiled sheets
Hollow faced switched off at dawn
Morning simpers-banished fog
Swarming down the vacant road
Fingering each pursed letter box
Armed with flowers and pale milk glass
It ploughs the ribs of earth with frost
Till curtains yawn and fix the face
Of respectable suburbia
Grazing stupored in their paper cups
Lapping the silent mouths of fish
Sipping oil from a broken moon
Listlessly the night chugs past
Whining horns blow cringing notes
Geese-stunted by the city's stench
Retching-heaving factories stare
Blandly at the corpse of sky
Buzzard neon climbs the boards
Bleeding over vagrant trees
Selling lifestyle-beauty-dreams
And death in pale-slim paper sticks
Forlorn, an all too skinny girl
Scratches fish nets laced up boots
Smiling thinly dry and cold
The night’s familiars-patrol her patch
Wolfwhistling beaming cars compete
For an inch of flesh, served up warm
Beneath stale blankets-soiled sheets
Hollow faced switched off at dawn
Morning simpers-banished fog
Swarming down the vacant road
Fingering each pursed letter box
Armed with flowers and pale milk glass
It ploughs the ribs of earth with frost
Till curtains yawn and fix the face
Of respectable suburbia
posted by Sue hardy-Dawson at 12/15/2005 07:11:00 PM
15 Comments:
I remember an old movie. A night in London with a lot of fog in the morning. A good suspence movie. A little bit dark. It's smell like a rain in the morning...
fingering each pursed letter box
You've got some really marvelous images in this one.
(I confess, I had some difficulty with the first part; I'm still not entirely sure I do, but I think I got it. Wasn't sure who/what was doing the verbing. This may just be me being dense!)
S Moon I'm on to it and thank-you
Carba yes it is dark, I think most cities, most places even have a dark brooding side
Moose I am positive you are not in the least bit dense, it is a little bit cryptic, the verbs refure to the reflections of the bridge. But it is a metaphore for the actions of humans. I played a little with the idea of 'in their cups' a medievil term for drunk and paper cups and oil strangeling the river.
Not a wasted word or syllable. I read it aloud, too, breathing its power into my quiet study.
lovely lilting melody with this one. love it!
Patry what a lovely immage you create, that words can circumnavigate the world and fill a quiet study
Shubhodeep, thank-you the rhythemes sort of crept in and took on a life of thier own, hopefully they're not too strong
Wow! At first, I find the description of each words really strong but it becomes calmer an coler in the longer run. Well, that's my interpretation. Your style of symbolism is really deep. Min if I ask, is that a Christmas poem? :D
Lovely poem sue. It makes me feel like a leaf floating down a river and catching life from a different angle.
Your words always flow so well.
Arthur no not in the least, but no it's not I started writing it in the summer that never really came on a dismal foggy day
Q NeeteeI'm glad you enjoyed floating through it, how's your story coming?
again this one feels like something i should have written had i the ability to conjure up such bloody fantastic images.
not jealous. not a bit!
But CJ you conjure up really funny immages in your work as in humerus, as well as seriously haunting so really you are just being modest and as such I feeldoubly complimented because I love reading your stuff
I was just starting to take a fast look round the blogs and see what was going on (after a long absence) when I came to this. It is truely wonderful. I'll slow my pace to read this over and over! Thanks Sue!
Merry Christmas Russel
Bravo! A fascinating Read!
Come visit my site and imbibe my poems.
Sue, I have written a poem inspired by your poetry.
http://marcustal.blogspot.com/2006/01/neon-buzzard-soars.html
Post a Comment
<< Home