A gale howls itself into a deathly pause
rain trickles down trembling glass
A blue stole waits
invisible if you forget to wipe the eye dust
and blurs when you shuffle thought-streams
A casual wrap comforting in that one need not
look any further and changes patterns
the more one looks
Two gentle curves and it is a cup
Focus on the gap, it is a candle flame
its wisps joining the gale
I watch this film adding my own music
sated like a jay resting on berries
though a grasshopper tickles the grass blades
and an occasional fish draws fresh ripples
No flotsam of words drifts near
the autopoetic creatures of the mind
This room does not tick
The norm is unborn here.
The final line ,” The norm is unborn here ” is a wonderfully apt coda that concludes this mesmeric work.
Heartfelt thanks to Louis Kasatkin for keeping the spirit of poetry alive and keeping the poets motivated with sincere comments and suggestions on every poem posted here at Destiny Poets. Glad to be a member of this site.
Wonderful, Reena!!! Last stanza, indeed, opens new perspectives!!!
Many thanks great poet Iulia for your kind words.