“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, January 19, 2018
Shadow lands
The poem cowered
in the dark corner
as does an animal behind a tree
feeling hidden
and safe
in error.
In the open, there was everything
that had been muttered
and nothing more could be said
in translation
of such inspirations
outlined in full color.
Grey and subdued
reflected in the blinded panes
so struck silent was the poet
when words
couldn't convince any body-
lighter was ever better.
Painting by Gwen John [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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