I Think I See The Cosmos! - Poem by Ross Mackay
'For poets, tears are like the blood of martyrs'
It is thou,
for thou is just:
Like a feudal queen,
she knows her ways,
the darkened alleyways
the midnight runaways
on the street corner with a smoke
and chattering teeth with giddiness.
Her skin so Arctic.
Her breath is cold:
'No life has ever passed through these bones'
She might say,
(folly to think I'll go away) .
The windows over the road,
a lick of pitch
concrete walls are her windows,
'you're being lied to, run! '
The frost glides over her rings.
'You're wonderful, tell me more.'
I smell purple, I'm sure of it.
I saw a man set himself on fire once.
He didn't panic.
Instead, he bowed his head in meditation and just waited.
His head slowly resting on the floor.
The smell? White. Pure white.
It's getting cold,
I don't know why I'm here this late,
I don't even like it here.
Her dress was thin,
her figure slim.
White she wore,
ready for bed.
A yellow brown hand smeared all the stars in the sky.
Where that smoke was coming from, I don't know.
London, was still burning.
'You'll turn out fine, I'm sure.'
I fell to my knees.
I couldn't breath nor see as my lungs burnt red
and my eyes were stained with sulphur.
'I'm being lied to! The blood of man cannot be wrong! '
A blood hot tear hit the sticky pavement.
I pressed my eyes into the ground.
Over, I thought.
The world is over.
A billion men couldn't fill the gap now.
Or I ever, no never, no more.
Will you follow?
Not today, my lady,
nor any day,
Why not? You've thought of me many a lonely night like this
but now I see you,
the brilliant white,
Not today, my lady white.
The splintering eyes brighter than the suns,
the moonlight glow of her satin sons,
never, not today.
'I can't wait to speak to you again.'
'My colour? What is it? '
Tar, pitch, dying, war, lies, hate,
'Black my lady; blacker than all'
'You know me well. Now then, run along,
I'm sure you're needed.'
'Yes my lady, goodnight,
Comments about I Think I See The Cosmos! by Ross Mackay
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe