In going through a box of papers I came across a pile of old old poems written in late 60’s, early 70’s. So having no shame I’m resurrecting them with minimal editing. Enjoy 🙂
Morning Allusions
the bravest breath of morning’s
prophetic dawn came whispering
through the frost glazed glass
of my window to the sun
cold hardwood floor damns my futile
attempts as last moment warmth
by taking my thoughts
& turning them into creaking
inflexible bone-cutting steel
the hissing sound of man made
warmth
slowly fills the cold empty
cavern with its welcome promise
in other rooms
of far off worlds mumbles
suddenly hush as they all are gone
except me who is tangled in the last
fleeing dream, before I fall, startled
awake for the fourth & final time
up some mosaic staircase
my feet rush
to make their way outside
where another stream of thought
strikes & the morning is lost
In inputing this piece I tried to stick to my many 1970 edits on the original. I did drop some of the punctuation. My bedroom at that time was in the basement of my parents’ house. I had a ground level window & the room was a bit of a cavern. The ‘man made warmth’ of the furnace would start up frequently. I easily sense the influence of the spoken section of The Moody Blues Night In White Satin. You also detect my enjoyment of alliteration.
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