I've been to the
bitter, dark place
where dreams are
decorations in
dilapidated houses,
a building haunted by
the ghosts of spring.
I tasted the wine of
whores and convicts
there.
I've prayed with the
broken and wasted.
I spent
days and months,
almost forever with
the feral men and
women of America in
homes not fit for fleas.
Then one cosmic day,
while the wounded slept,
I chased a beautiful
moth that escaped the flame.
And that has made all
the difference.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 27th, 2025 23:44
- Comment from author about the poem: My recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, are available on Amazon.com www.thomaswcase.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments7
Superb write🙏🏻🕊
ty
Yw
What a wonderful finish here, loved every bit of imagery and the positivity. 🌹
Thank you so much, sweet Teddy.
This poem speaks out of shanty town where grit is found. I love the last line it gives the poem a kick
Thank you.
A moth that escapes the flame. Now that is hope, flying fierce! Well done, my friend. Love this poem, tons! 🌹👏
Thanks.
You are welcome!
There's nothing quite like that twinkling glimmer in the smoky darkness of the seeming upper regions of hell to give the soul half a thread to grasp that we might escape, is there? Gorgeously rendered with excellent imagery and a haunting, heartening poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
I appreciate it.
Your poetry rings with truth and vision and carries me away from my doubts
Thanks, my friend.
May we all find such a Moth.
Nice one.
Thank you.
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