Polar Legend Poem by James Mills
Polar Legend
'Listen'
the others, quiet anyway, only
hear
'I'
sounds, just sounds.
Outside
bone-needling,
eye-killing,
blank, still, heavy, enemy
white.
Not a colour now,
lord no;
an oppression.
'I'
words melt, burn.
mean words, meaning
less.
'Think'
Thought leaves no tracks.
Lost in white.
'May be some time.'
All time
falling
into white.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
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4/23/2024 8:18:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I like the feeling of disappearance in this, it's a very original poem and a good read. All the best, Seán