Poetry (79)

Hello Escritori,

Thank you so much for bearing with me after I just could NOT come up with any poetry last week. I hope that this helps illustrate why – and goes some way to making up for the wait. Here’s this week’s Sunday Poem.

img_0334

Mistral

I thought

When it was expected

That something had finally

Arrived to blow the malaise-ridden

Cobwebs of grey days away.

But no, it was just

Riotous

And laughing at us.

 

We remain

See-sawing

Between sun and rain

Some atmospheric fluctuation

Makes it hard to sleep.

Our tempers are the mild grey

Of a pigeon’s fluttering breast.

 

We are patient from hardship

And conversant

In every dialect

That the rain can possess.

We note the sky’s caprice

With weariness as we perceive

Death, like a relative

Unwelcome or disowned

Walking out and collecting

Souls ever on loan.

 

The pain is great,

Though the visit is brief:

Death stays amongst us,

Repeat on repeat.

Following orders

Of advance and retreat

Known by his robes

Tinged the colour of grief.

 

(© Copyright Pola Negri 05/03/2017.)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s