a journey of awareness
OverheardToo soon, mon vieux, too soon!Whisperers ghost the hallsTeasing out a tune, their night luteStrung from guts and fur balls,Dry-wheezing inside a carapaceOf ancient heraldry, its iron grillA grimace of snuff and bitters,As if northern winds had iced over.Ensconced within a fever, no longer shyTo lose their tempers and rage,Elders ring the stumps and clockSplinters among fresh nestings,Draw lots for better intellect, wit,Or cunning in the bureaucratic needleThat threnodies thread, full certainHow wisdom is paralyzed by light.[Disposable Poem February 4, 2013]Dr. Mike
Overheard
ReplyDeleteToo soon, mon vieux, too soon!
Whisperers ghost the halls
Teasing out a tune, their night lute
Strung from guts and fur balls,
Dry-wheezing inside a carapace
Of ancient heraldry, its iron grill
A grimace of snuff and bitters,
As if northern winds had iced over.
Ensconced within a fever, no longer shy
To lose their tempers and rage,
Elders ring the stumps and clock
Splinters among fresh nestings,
Draw lots for better intellect, wit,
Or cunning in the bureaucratic needle
That threnodies thread, full certain
How wisdom is paralyzed by light.
[Disposable Poem February 4, 2013]
Dr. Mike