The rain snaps
on the window pane
like sticks.
Sleeping
a young man’s sleep -
he’s gone
head back
neck curved
a swan.
Breathe even
breathe deep
dream on
dream sweet.
I don’t sleep
lie thinking
I’ll not pass
this way
again as
dawn breaks
with rain.
Next night
alone
I feel his flesh
against my mouth.
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The lines are lovely. Without the picture the poem could be so different. I saw a mother with a son, with perhaps a secret kiss good-night. Where has 'he' gone the next day? To war? To marriage? To 'too old to be openly hugged and kissed'? The poem's power of suggestion is its great strength.
P.S. The picture really is fab, with its Oedipus overtones.
Never mind what Coopey says - you fill yer boots lass! :)
Regards,
A.E.
Nice poem, tricky ending.In the penultimate verse "as" might be better starting the next line
I’ll not pass
this way
again
as dawn breaks
with rain.
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Ann Foxglove
Mon 19th Dec 2011 08:08
Thanks so much guys! You are all so kind!
Anthony and John - I was aiming for a degree of poignancy - wot r u like! ;)
Cynthia - no way! (Mother and son). And he is "gone" into that deep untroubled kind of sleep that young people seem to manage. And maybe that sleep symbolises the unreachableness of the man.
Ray - re last verse - I'd like to add something to imply that skin/flesh has a memory, as they say that water has. Not sure how, yet.