Friday, June 19, 2009
At twilight I plucked the twigs in a gossamer trap,
It hummed the most mournful of nocturnal airs,
An entrapped cicada droned grating sounds
As it wriggled to be freed from its cage of lace.
On the forest floor small frogs whistled shrilly
While scurrying rodents made crunching noises
On rotting dried leaves glistening with dew.
The night sounds brought to mind sad verses from the past,
Resurrected from the depths of long forgotten episodes.
The haunting euphony of twilight sounds stirred anew
The pining for lost loves that were thought long gone.
Oh how I poured my heart then in a beggar's bowl, and
Tore my soul like a penitent's tattered rags,
How cruel of you not to have seen, nor felt, nor heard
Pleadings from a lad feverish with love's contagion.
I look back and remembered making a vow,
Not to embarrass and humble myself at such a low.
No more will I mewl nor whimper for hurt,
No more maudlin verses wallowing in mush.
But then, in this dark and soulful corner of twilight,
Memories are like shafts of light sharply beaming
Asserting their presence against my resolve,
Shameful outpourings reluctantly remembered, verses
That should have stayed locked in strong metal boxes.