I heard a voice crying
A voice from away
The sounds ~ there from ~ trying
To abscond and stray.
A turbulent mayhem
'bove ocean and land
Till a messenger brought them
O'er here to my hand
I heard a voice weeping
So young and alone
A secret, so keeping,
The message had blown;
Through the dark of the night,
Midst the thunder and rain,
With the storm at its height...
I listened again.
I listened to sadness,
I know the sound well;
I knew (through the madness)
The noises would tell,
Of a darkness, a shroud,
A blanket of red;
An Atlantic of cloud ~
Crashing waves overhead.
I called out and waited,
For teared eyes to dry;
The weeping abated
And anguish passed by.
Now ardent rejoices
(Uplifting my heart)
Winged from the voices
A sea-width apart.
ASJ
-
Author:
ASJ (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 26th, 2020 16:41
- Comment from author about the poem: To my friend Jack Eggz in Iowa, USA, who writes a mean write and fights a mean fight.
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 57
Offline)
Comments2
May those winged voices meet at all times.
Andy
A ballad of sheer empathy to a friend and so well put together - another super write Alan.
Thanks Fay, hope you are OK. As you know Jack Eggz' (age 13) things can be enjoyed here at MPS.
In fact she has posted one this very day. Hope you can find time to take a peek.
'The imagination imitates. It is the critical spirit that creates.'
~ Oscar Wilde (also)
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