Comments about Stephen Carey
A Glass Of Water
A glass of water sat on a book of poems,
Hiding the moon,
Pointing out the angels,
Jutting out of the window.
An ominous feeling fills the air.
The moon being covered darkens the room.
The glass is removed from atop the book.
No ring of liquid is left on the book,
But the book is now very cold.
In the light of the new moon,
The golden letters, spelling the name of the long dead poet, gleam.
His ghost leaves the book and enters me.
I am cursed.
The light is burnt.
The door is broken.
I cannot stop writing.
I hide the moon again.
Your Name In Your Names
There you are,
Your first name caught in the energy of the next,
Your second name holding the most height of all,
Your middle name atop the centerpiece of a nothingness,
Your penultimate name standing as the crown jewel,
Your last name ending the names in silence,
There you are.