Bones
The courtyard’s bustle does not stop.
The rain’s let up, though in the grey
and bird-flecked heavens at the top
of this world, where the clouds at play
still promise rain, the sun is hid.
The grey zinc roofs tilt into air.
The sky has settled like a lid
above this town, and I don’t care
what time it is, the time is now.
My memories, my hopes and fears
all fade away. I take a bow,
in this dull room where all the years
that made me older lose their sting.
The room is old: it creaks and groans.
Down in the courtyard, not a thing
distracts. I hear it in my bones.
Bones
Now I enjoyed the delayed rhyme but had trouble making the whole thing roll
but that could just be my rhythm that's out.
With limited experience of your writing I didn't expect this structure as I associated you more toward prose poetry.
in this dull room where all the years
that made me older lose their sting.
Are good lines and bring s3 and s4 together nicely
but that could just be my rhythm that's out.
With limited experience of your writing I didn't expect this structure as I associated you more toward prose poetry.
in this dull room where all the years
that made me older lose their sting.
Are good lines and bring s3 and s4 together nicely
