Nocturne (In Times Gone By) Poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Nocturne (In Times Gone By)
Outside, the night sucks street lamps like orange lozenges
And the moon creeps slowly over rooftops.
Magic permeates the air.
Was there ever a time
When iron frogs were worth a King's ransom
And little elves wept by the desolate bus-stops?
A lonely policeman cycles away
And grieves for the passing of childhood,
While a poet loiters in the churchyard, drinking a can of beer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/18/2024 12:51:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Very, truly, back on formly Ellisonian! Surely the poet drank nepenthe! P.S. How about dating these poems, so Ph.Ds can chart the progress of the poet's mind?