Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Wait/Poetry

~ The Wait ~

Scratching of long nails,
standing in a line of people,
staring, staring,
up in the rail,
to the hill's peak.

Waiting, waiting.
Sound of a man's talk.

More waiting,

A person yonder,
a look,
slight exchange,
him, standing alone,
my small pretense,
a shadowed feeling,
yearning, pining,
unidentifiable longing,
mixed up with regret.

Regret looms,
through my veins,
like pumping music,
of ingratiating nails,
nails upon a chalkboard,
course through me-
my blood is replaced with music.

I can hear my blood rushing,
and nails upon a chalkboard,
rushing through my system.

What an awful thought.

Yet, the sun comes,
emerging slowly,
through my darkness,
my shadowy thoughts,
my regretful exchanges.

The grating in my blood subsides.
What relief.
I no longer,
hear the scratching.

Now, a sweet melodious music rushes forth.
My blood is replaced.

Sweetness runs through me.
The sun comes out.

Joy so great,
that no one could ever,
claim it.

I swing my putter back,
and I hit the ball smoothly.

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