From Where I Sit Poem by Not Long Left
From Where I Sit
Through eighteen glass sqaures
lined with lead-
The outside world
A spiders view.
Half a window here,
another half there,
Top side of porch,
and a section of bare wall.
Behind the faces,
those stone shaped faces,
all is not what it seems.
Hidden from view,
a sometime shadow,
a movement of curtain,
a scream at 2am.
Death of the neigbour,
it's all too quiet.
I love the mounting tension in this poem. The silence grows until it becomes unbearable and bursts. There is always a sense of danger when everything is too quiet in our concrete jungle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 12:44:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Much talent, enjoyed the flow and felt myself placed in medieval times, a stately manner Full of intrigue and atmosphere Love Duncan