In the Mist

Ah, the mist does strange things to imaginative people. And this is a poem from one such person.

In shadowed nights the visions come,

those haunting Scepters calling low,

reaching out as blood shall run.

Which path to take, which way to go?

The misting fog, in these dreams,

is dusted gray with pangs of blue,

then laced with hope for love to last,

and tied, so gently, to lovers, true.

The hills around have filled with tears

and I dare not call it a misty rain.

I see them cry, so some have said

that I have grown a tad insane.

But the shadows say, "That's not true,

you are as sane as anyone.

It is those clouds, those misting clouds,

that warp your mind when day is done."

JE Falcon

Org. - 10-23-2017

Rew. - 01-2022

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the honest thoughts my friend.
"But the shadows say, "That's not true,
you are as sane as anyone.
It is those clouds, those misting clouds,
that warp your mind when day is done."
I agree with the above lines. Somehow I became a old man and now I know. We can do what we can only. Thank you for sharing your amazing words and thoughts.
Coyote

[JE Falcon]

Thanks, and as you say, "We do what we can"

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree and you are welcome my friend.

[M. J. Smith]

Yes, sometimes winter's clouds do seem to twist my thoughts. Sanity, it feels sometimes, is relative.
I love the thoughts penned here. An excellent reflection on life.

[JE Falcon]

We try, M.J., and someday I'll get it right. LOL

[Chris Shaw]

A first class write in my opinion. I do love the flow here and the use of rhyme and meter. I am fascinated by drifting mist. Have watched it so many times roll across the river bank, enveloping everything in sight. The movement is like a trail of ghostly veils. I have written of it myself and it certainly captures the imagination. Can be so eerie. Much enjoyed Falcon.

Chris

[JE Falcon]

Oh my, thanks a bunch, Chris. Every once in a while, I get in the mood to write something spooky, mysterious, or just plain odd, and it seems that the fog finds its way in. Funny how that works. :)

[Cherrie Palmer]

I love to watch the fog fall or creep from the earth and climb. I find it memorizing and it has inspired many a story and or poem.
I love what you have done. It stirs the imagination.

[JE Falcon]

To write of a mystery that is anywhere near the ocean, and not include fog in the setting is a travesty. I mean, hay, it is primeval and routed in the soul of mankind. :) ("Before the rain fell upon the earth, a mist moved across the land every morning.") --- Well, at least I think it is. --- Thanks very much Cherrie for the feedback.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I have a vivid imagination, especially for the supernatural.
Mists, fog...they always give me a smile and the creeps at the same time.
This poem does that...very effectively.
j.

[JE Falcon]

Ah, Jacob, a Strole on a rickety wooden dock in a morning fog, buoy-bells chiming in the distance with the occasional fog-horn sounding.
Then comes the scream! :)

[Lathen Griffiths]

The mist certainly does fire the imagination, an enjoyable read JE Falcon.

Best wishes,

Lathen.

[JE Falcon]

Thank you and have a great day.