Glenn Bagshaw

Rookie (CANADA)

A Mob Of Yesterdays - Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

If you turn from the midnight window, they
peek in. Look, all you see is the shakened
branch, grasping at wind. Yet the past will say
why stars tremble. You, when awakened,
see electric lobby doors alone open.
Does only coldness enter? Watch.... you should! .
Yesterdays linger, tangled like rope in
your path. I too view darkness. A ghost would.
Standing in shadows: vault-looted sentry,
I view my old home. She got the house. Sold
it. Now it, vacant but never empty,
will be torn down. If I'd.....well, that's passed old…
Worn-and-all-wrong welcome it clings!
Fading, untouched, I seem to pass through things.

Crystal saints beam miracles, intercede
so Dawn's the morning saint shrined in my creed.
I'm mortal, falling flesh, dust-bin goner.
Yet shine- sheer miracle! -bless graced honour!
At death-my poems may psalm- let's say they're heard:
'Dawn taught end-stopped sinners to keep their word! '

Comments about A Mob Of Yesterdays by Glenn Bagshaw

  • (8/31/2006 9:21:00 PM)

    very the a ghost should...rhyme in the middle...drawing attention to things that linger invisible... like yesterday...very nice (Report) Reply

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  • (12/6/2005 12:27:00 PM)

    As you said, 'I seem to pass through
    things, ' as we all do. However, when
    we do, we seem to always carry
    that extra bagage we can't seem
    to get rid of. I thought the subtext in
    this piece was suburb.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 30, 2006

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