It’s that time again.
The sun pales in the west.
What is there about the dusk
That lowers our songs to
We marvel at the fire in the western sky
Yet hear a soft chant of mourning in our souls.
Who can explain that primal veil of sadness?
Could it be the passing of revealing light
Or guilt over dreams left un-chased?
Perhaps we fear Apollo’s chariot
Will be lost on the other side.
The sun will greet the new day
And bathe us in all cleansing light
Chance and skill again will dance for us
And what passes will mock our expectations.
What bold psychic can unlock the codes of chaos?
When in the sun’s great circling the dusk returns
To shroud our hearts with curious regrets,
We will take solace in the setting sun
The night will sort the chaos out
And give us needed synthesis.
It’s that time again.
I agree with Sandra - an exceptional piece that captures that elusive moment which many find too difficult to word-paint. Susie.
The first thing about this piece is the actual layout. You look at this as a whole and can see a classic design to the shape of the poem. I know you will have deliberately worked it that way. The piece reminds me of Elliot Carters Piano piece, 'Nightwalks' it has the same feeling of being lost and feeling of insecurity (hence the lowering of the voice) The mood of the piece is not brroding and, at times seems rather playful. An emotionally driven piece that manages to maintain a greal deal of control.
To shroud our hearts with curious regrets, We will take solace in the setting sun. Rachel Ann Butler
Reminds me of a song I use to hear in my school days: 'Some where the sun is shining, so honey don't you cry, We will find a silver lining, the clouds will soon roll by! ' A great poem Sir Howard! - Raj Nandy
Nightfall's significance for humans is beautifully explained in your poem. Thanks for sharing.
this is a well written poem.i enjoyed reading it.i will be reading your other poems
Nice observation of the rhythms of day and night. There is something so primal about dawns following nightfall and the (usually) peaceful slumber that puts everything in a new and different light. Very well done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The western light is an autumn light fragile, mysterious and elusive. Poets have been attempting to define it time out of mind. Your definition is one of the more successful ones I have read. Regards, Sandra