When the Guests Have Gone

I stand, rather stupidly waving at tail lights
Whose owners, I realize, can't see me.
Bedlam now lapses to crypt-like tranquility.
I turn.  I'm pleased.  No one's drunk all
The coffee.  No bright plastic objects
Are blocking my way.  I hear no voices
Crying, admonishing, whining.  I hear
Only poetry, undammed at last, rushing
Out, leaving marks on this page.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 45 times
Written on 2023-01-03 at 14:22

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Lovely expression of the Poet's dilemna. Would I ever want to stop my dearest wife popping into my office for a chat - just as the first line has entered my head? Of course not. And I would never chuck the visitors out, just mentally stand from one foot to the other in anticipation. :)

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Ah…blessed silence in which vision flows.