No moon tonight, no stars in view.
The darkness rules triumphantly
There’s nothing left for us to do
but ignite the gas, create light.
The striking match, the hiss of gas
The mantle starts to glow blue white.
We let the after image pass
and we regain the power of sight.
The mantel mirror throws the light
that’s caught and held by polished brass
and china plates of blue and white
and by the china cabinets glass.
Familiar things come into view.
Although we see them every day.
By the soft glow we see anew
as though they’ve changed some subtle way.
The curtains which hold back the night
adopt somehow a richer hue.
Though worn and faded by sunlight.
By soft gaslight look almost new.
Progress insisted that we change
and they installed electricity.
The old familiar things look strange
The light falls simultaneously.
There’s no reflections to and fro
in the way there used to be.
I much preferred the softer glow
that I recall from memory.
I can’t go back although I would
given the opportunity.
Perhaps I’m in nostalgic mood
forgetting things conveniently.
The ever present smell of gas
and fumes that coated everything.
Obscured the twinkle of the brass.
which needed daily polishing.
I must admit reluctantly
though I adored the softer glow.
I’m used to electricity
outmoded fashions have to go.
14-Nov-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I feel I'm getting outmoded too Ivor, but I think that Electricity now, emphasizes all the flaws, and wrinkles that appear, whereas before as you say the softer light hid them very well. We live in a STARK reality or should it be SPARK reality! ! ! ! ! Very well written piece of poetry. Top marks. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX