I give my eyes to the stairs as I ascend,
They seem not to be steps, steps, steps, steps,
But one sheet of inclined metal
Willing me to misplace my left foot and slip.
It may just be the lighting;
The insomniac bulbs that are so dull
It's as if half had been stolen somehow
Or fell alseep in quiet protest to their ceaseless use.
That drone, that is the consistent hum of their snore I guess.
At the top I enter the bedroom
Under a family-tonne of scowls, - screwed up noses,
A lazy eye - hanging framed on the wall.
It makes them unadorable; those sweaty wrinkles are permanent.
The shadow of my brother makes me
Look strange-ish in that photo,
A sort of grey, like death black
Diluted with a cup of pinkish humour.
But the sun cremates itself
And night, night, night.
you're not alone, mark, thats what you once told me now im returning the favour. im sorry if what you said about your brother and fam is true, so so sorry. i enjoyed reading this poem so much mark, never give up and you'll go very far! xxx
I like the abstract portrait feel of this. I would love to see the world through your eyes for a day, I love how everyone can view the same world differently. Which is why I love art and artists, they are courageous enough to show everyone what they see. Intriguing as always Mark. I was caught by the second verse in particular and the line 'diluted with a cup of pinkish humour', very whimsical.
the sun cremates itself - night, night. good write. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dark......................................... BB: O(