PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

the silent sitter sat
in the seat next to me
his paling pallid presence
felt in mystery

a strange storm steals and thunders
the frozen fragile frames
of windows waxed and washed
in mist from coldest seas

the warp of wood
and the wheel wound right
the prow of ships
silhouette the night

and, the quiet widow prays
in candles that light away
the meloncholy chill
of memories that play
making minutes mince and stray

grey tones of ancient stones
leech red rimmed rust
from igots of iron forged
dripping tears to cobblestones
and cracks of mud and dust

bells blossom and peel
floating bodies, flotsam, and keel
stones rounded by the sea

a piece of quartz
an old man's knee

a lone seagull
with wounded wing
a missing eye
a piece of string

neither, night nor day seen in these fogs of grey

which,
with misted fingers reach
through quiet drenched wet streets

silent in the settling
in wind's watchful wail
still the quiet's nettling
spins a mortal tale

the silent sitter sat
in the seat next to me
my greatest wish the sound
as the sitter
silent
leaves.