. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .

Monday, November 1, 2010

The Final Sad Poem for Woodrow Lone

These days you can't butter the bread without thinking of ol' Woodrow and not coughing up a tear. May God have mercy on his poor, poor tender soul.



Woodrow Lone
Crept the night and filled
The empty cracks with dead men's thoughts
Only asking once for
What he got
Alone on a moonless shore where the washing
Of the waves burned in his skull
Like the wedding day
Her wedding day
Alone and no one came to the stilled sounds
Of the bells hands-distant from
An alter boy’s thin touch
Tingling in the ears of late risers
Left to slumber and forget why they hadn’t come.

Woodrow Lone
Came the darkness that
Recognized in his soul no starry home
Left standing for someone
To take his place
His pride washed coarsely from his cheeks
By foot printless sand owned
Fetus to the full tide
A line of grey bones on the
Waterfront marked here and there for
No one’s reward
To count pointless prospects
Conversations damned and dried deemed
Once to have happened a thousand times if not for her.

Woodrow Lone
So it is he danced forgotten steps leaving
Salty imprints to burn in
The rising ocean sun a glance beyond the water’s edge
He felt his shackles with the hands they bound
Tight the coral stung
A lash found favored flight with
A gull and the spray carried on a windy
Perspective backbone-glances he couldn’t grasp
Could only wait
The bells stilled and the waves rang holy holy truth
Trespassing his fading heart
He heard her name
So common a name that immediately he thought it was his.

12.05


2 comments: