Windows




By Stephen Cheney

                                                              A candle in the window,
                                                              orange on black;
                                                              teachings of a soul, given to stars;
                                                              Tear'd flame, mirroring life.

                                                              Cool night-scent of Earth,
                                                              crowds against my body;
                                                              as I, as if fallen from reach,
                                                              wonder at sources of Before.

                                                              The smell of promise
                                                              a promise of tomorrows;
                                                              a covering for aching bones,
                                                              as this night gloves the eyes.

                                                              Dew drops on grass blades,
                                                              Silver on green;
                                                              teachings of stars, given to the Soul;
                                                              Flames of life, mirrored in tears.



Image: Windows (Palazzo Medici) - Buonarroti Michelangelo 

Comments

  1. I can tell this poem talks about sadness and longing, yet hope is there. Think we've all been in this situation of despair, of not knowing what to do, missing someone like hell, depression whatever and yet life tells us 'psiuuu, I'm here, take me!'
    Very beautiful, Stephen.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I like the end of the first and the last verses, a perfect antithesis. In the beginning, closed to life, open to pain; in the end open to life, a subsiding pain.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Truly a beautiful poem, Stephen.

    "Cool night-scent of Earth, crowds against my body; as I, as if fallen from reach, wonder at sources of Before."

    Death and re-birth - that's what this part evoked in me.

    Cheers

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Dissecting Society welcomes all sorts of comments, as we are strong advocates of freedom of speech; however, we reserve the right to delete Troll Activity; libellous and offensive comments (e.g. racist and anti-Semitic) plus those with excessive foul language. This blog does not view vulgarity as being protected by the right to free speech. Cheers