Outside Only A Few Sounds

Outside, only a few sounds
remain from the rain.

The sea's edginess
throws the debris from industries
at the seagulls

— standing on one leg,
a sense of danger
is not in their imaginations.

I listen to the sea:
What is contentment?

I doubt these words
will carry a message,
I write them anyway:

What is contentment?

I write slowly as if stuck
in a misguided dream
while asking each word
to explain itself

— the voices of these words
are smooth, sleepy,
unspoken, like silent wolves.

I watch them form
living verbs, obscured nouns,
quivering contractions,
enormous certainty, and

reciting their loyalty:
What is contentment?

My words breathe
like a night nurse
caring for comatose patients.

Time nods at the evening
to put me to sleep:

my soul is burning.
Between my fingers,
time is still.

Time:
a street I've walked before
— bare trees, nervous darkness,
the lips of strangers, a dog's tongue hangs out.

Silence: a ringing in my left ear,
like a distraught child screaming for its mother.
What is contentment?

---------------------------------------------------------

from my first book: 'In Forbidden Language'

©dah / Stillpoint Books 2010 a.r.r.



Poetry by Dah
Read 927 times
Written on 2017-05-10 at 17:53

Tags Dah  Dahlusion  Thoughts 

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The images of our world, as they come to the mind, unhurried, not sought, just flowing words that create images and thoughts. Lovely!
Ashe~
2017-05-13


Bibek The PoetBay support member heart!
This is good. :)
2017-05-11


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo brother poet.
Ken
2017-05-10