Every shape half-glimpsed has eyes
unseen within its silhouette
of different shades of gray and gloom
and purple black that make this room
a place of glowering counterfeits
- strange stationary animals
or person, persons quite unknown -
whose frozen forms all hold their breath
and hold their pulse, as you hold yours -
you hold their gaze.
You know if you could reach the light
they'd disappear a dozen ways into the glare
replaced by - shirt, or ironing board
or closet door or huge stuffed bear
but still you can't quite make out some
of what these shapes would turn into
if you could only reach the light -
you wouldn't reach, would you?
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
Try the RANDOM button, to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.