speak slowly when you question
will winter remember
our visions of a drunk sea
beneath a thousand clouds
pregnant with despair?
will you remember come morning
our dream of a white horse
dancing headless through the rye?
speak softly when you answer,
stuttering into sleep.














Comments
I love the first quatrain. It's teeming with tension, contrasting the drunken dangerous sea with the pregnant sky. I admit, it puts me on edge (and I like it).
I am intrigued by the second quatrain, but a little confused regarding the meaning. Could you elaborate on the metaphor?
That aside, very solid poem. Good job!
--
"He who laughs last has not yet heard the bad news." - Bertolt Brecht
I don't remember writing the poem specifically, but I seem to remember the idea behind it being some sort of descent into madness, characterized—as the title suggests—through inebriation.
Maybe.
Isn't poetry great?
--
"He who laughs last has not yet heard the bad news." - Bertolt Brecht
The trouble with poetry is that anyone with a pen thinks he can write it, just like anyone with a digital camera thinks he can take photography. If we'd just leave it to the people who knew what the hell they were doing, we might have a little more respect for the mediums.
</elitism>
Previous PageNext Page