The Archangel and the Judge

a poem about two people who never seem to cease to muck up my thoughts

 

Bookmarks, creased pages, paragraphs,

lines, letters, stanzas and in depth meaning

taken out of context, quoted, dedicated to

others. 

 

Old songs, cold piano keys, melancholy lyrics playing on

 dusty speakers. I still hear you in my sleep. The sound of your voice,

clear as a needle on a record, unhinged

echoing in every door frame I tried to close,

walk away and start anew, there is still the

sacred sound of you.

 

Photographs, albums, parched envelopes in hidden

drawers, ink stains with dates that took time away, framed

or forgotten, you are still picture clear. 

Author's Note

let me know what comes from this poem...

Reviews

[Collodi]

This is one of your best poems. What seems to work is the listing of seemingly unrelated things, that are tied up for the reader by a thread of emotion and nostalgia. It makes it not only special, but like the unlocking of an old chest and trying to sort out the meaning. It takes us on a journey of discovery. Well done.

[B.N.W]

What came for me from this poem was a hightened sense of sense. I was led through the initial comfort of over intellectualization that comes from spending long hours in poetry books, shocked out of that comfort by a recognition of the presence of sound wholly affecting a more primative sensation, unnerving the reader as they touch the foundation of a plagued mind seen through your dream of him. I loved the blending of rationality and irrationality coming together in your sleep, and you provide great imagery.

Thanks,

B.N Wilson

[Ed Hart]

my goodness, you certainly painted that picture! well done...