o prodigal son?
i glanced out the window
but your vision was unclear
were you standing at the door
or lying far from here?
-The hunter long since hunted
and the race was overdone
the requiem is missing
and the eulogy's been sung-
and yet i find i'm standing here
just waiting at the door
i stop
to hear the voice
that i shall hear no more
A.J. Ponder
Yes I'm back! And with a poem, I really like this one (am I allowed to like my own poetry?) It means things to me, I hope you find meaning in it as well.
It's so good to be back after an all too busy time, a few deep breaths, a goodbye, and next week perhaps a hello to the future and a return to the fantastical! :)
So see you some time in the future, where you may find there's been some trouble with time machines :) But for poetry now - you can't beat the Tuesday Poem.
cheers,
A.J.
Hmm, a poem that makes me feel a little sad though I sense that I'm not meant to. Like the last verse,
ReplyDeletei stop
to hear the voice
that i shall hear no more
Re liking one's own poems...I guess we all get cross at times with our writing but in the end if we don't like it ourselves what's the point?
Thanks Helen, and yes, there is a plaint running through this piece, although it was a turning point, almost a goodbye to sadness, so that's probably the uplifting undercurrent that you were feeling :) Cheers, and Merry...almost...Christmas.
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