Embedded stench of ether
bleeding thru' cracked tile,
washed in antiseptic drip...
...................................and-
I'm wondering how they sleep
between the threaded lines
of cognizance and paralysis
the options here quite limited
in attempting how to permeate
the state of the human brain-
from the outside looking in.
Surgical stage, like twilight,
presenting light in darkness
as its curtain falls before a cast
of pale green masks and gowns,
hovering o'er dis-cognizance
.......................................while-
I'm wondering 'bout it all,
with strange understanding
that I'll never really grasp,
the far too many questions,
answers to be questioned,
'bout strange, random thoughts,
on a dank, stormy night
by a fireside, sitting...
alone, by myself
chatting with my thoughts
in absolute solitude....wondering.
© 2019-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You will not be the only one with such thoughts, the idea of an open fire is tempting and especially at night, I usually work online but never chat with my thoughts, Frank, just read interesting things and of course think unconsciously. The idea on a dank stormy night near the fireside, seem truly tempting..I have enjoyed this well worded poem. A 10