Strange Tones & Ambiance At A Waking... Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

The room became colorfully quiet
like a neo-noir movie film,
pictures shaded by thick yellowed drapes,
producing a sepia twilight,
and queer silhouettes off pale walls lit
by catty-cornered torchere lamps
casting shadows 'cross cathedral ceilings,
some strangely, disturbingly abstract,
coming from the west side of the room.

And, far away from outside this room
at the end of a dark and narrow hallway
is a door leaking traces of fomaldehyde,
where a circle of people were whispering
in a tone acquiescent to the ambience.

The sound as the light, quite portentous,
as the grandfather clock warply chimed nine times,
and all were escorted to the double front doors,
they'll all return early morning, dressed
in the same suits, and dresses as yesterday,

faces all wearing their best solemn eyes;
by the sunrise that finally breaks the silence,
on display from the east side of the room,
where the departed lay in breathlessness,
and the rest of us go on with Life
'til its our turn to sleep in breathlessness
through the chimes of the grandfather clock
after spending a night in the room down the hall.




FjR-MMXVIII