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The Clock Turns


douglas
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The Clock Turns

The clock turns
The cigarette burns
I drift to rain forests
With thoughts about the demonstrators
And thoughts of my past lovers

Red strands of tangled love
I see the sunshine fade behind the gradual incline
Of nature's back behind us
And evening's purple evening dress
Lying close beside us

And are we real and just one
Or is this all untrue
I love
I hate
I cry
I sing
And also do love you
Oh so true and sweet
Standing beneath a dead poet's trees
Stained by portraits of his face
And marble busts

I am
You are
And so was Keats
My God I do love your tree

But what tree is life
Shall I have a wife
I hear the TV blaring
And purple jumpsuits
Designed in the '70's
And tender comfort caring

Love is custard
And love is lust
And lust is unrelenting
And surreptitious looks
Invade
The company
I'm keeping

 

To receive love, you have to give it...

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  • 2 weeks later...

-- And evening's purple evening dress
Lying close beside us --

 

How lovely! Very Hart Crane.

 

This is an intriguing introspective love poem/self portrait hybrid. (Not sure if that makes any sense, but that's where it takes me, lol.)

 

Tony :smile:

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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  • 3 months later...

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