Midnight, July Poem by Andrew James Murray
Midnight, July
We writhe
with a rage to know
the unknowable,
blind to great masses
that dance in dark orbits.
And a soft, summer wind
on a night beneath stars
is no balm.
From somewhere a whistle
casts a line,
a fragile camaraderie
in a world
fell silent,
where white moth-wing
is riotous
and a spider's touch
carnal.
Beautiful train of thought, well articulated and nicely penned in good poetic diction with insight. A lovely poem indeed. Thanks for sharing Andrew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 5:00:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A good ars poetica with nice poetic thoughts. You may like to read my ars poetica named as (Poetic Sense-1) Thanks