Those Hours
Slow steps
across the ground,
heavy with past days
and broken sound.
Stars rise
over the hollow field.
A gentle fire
keeps its small space.
Tears slip
without hurry.
Even the gold sea
moves away.
Spring leans close.
A spark falls.
The world shifts
in quiet flight.
Deep inside,
a journey stirs
— unspoken,
but enough.
Home waits
past the final table,
where poems
flow again
into the dark.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 13th, 2026 05:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments7
This is a most salome poem, somber and gently dark. It casts a hypnotic spell where one drifts form the light of day to the soft spell of night to close one's eyes and sleep into another world.
Heartfelt thanks dear friend. 🙏🏻🕊️
Always a pleasure my friend. Have a wonderful day
Good day, arqios,
A most beautiful and wistful passage of poetry: a poetess at her bureau whilst all around her disappears as she enters the poem. Elegantly composed.
Wishing you much happiness,
Tony.
That’s an excellent reading. Thank you, dear Tony 🕊️🙏🏻
Entering the writing zone where all else fades
Yup, thanks my friend 🙏🏻🕊️
always welcome
There’s a damn quiet, almost sacred stillness here, as the heavy footsteps, hollow field, small fire, and unhurried tears gradually give way to spring, a falling spark, and the stirring of something not yet spoken. The ending is the keeper for me, because “where poems / flow again / into the dark” makes home feel like more than a final destination—it becomes the place where the burden of living falls away and the poet returns to the mystery that first gave him a voice.
Good write A. We've our annual 25 hour day soon in UK, having had our annual 23 hour day in March - messing about with clock-changing. lol.
For Poetry I need Peace. Good Write.
Wow, Rik. I felt this one, especially tonight. It's funny how much time we spend trying to figure life out, only to find ourselves back at the writing desk asking the same damn questions. Glad we have poetry, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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