Moonlight and rainstorms.

Just as the elevator doors lurched apart

It struck him

This is where this poem should start

Alien faces trooped out one by one

While those patiently waiting to enter stood aside

Some perhaps left memories inside

Those entering do the very opposite?

If you go in search of who wrote these words

Who do you look for male or female?

The ghost of times past?

A poet of the present?

Someone with a head full of ideas

Or perhaps full of sawdust

All is never black and white in the writerly world

Perhaps you won’t, never will find the culprit

Yet the writer has trust always in the written word

The door opens you step in or out

Think on the choices made and the consequences

In the flickering light apparitions sometimes show themselves

They are just that.

Once the door opens in the poets mind

It could well be the end of the world as he knows it.

Yesterday – walked through a cemetery

Dead interesting.

(c) Chris Black. August 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~

5 thoughts on “Moonlight and rainstorms.

  1. Oh the poet’s mind/alien brain is a fascinating place, a surreal view, hooked with a fish on the line, laying foundations on pieces of used paper, using ink as mortar, and the sky is the next brick, and today’s sunshine is the doorway to sunset and beyond. What I’m trying to say Chris, is that, I loved your imagery and imagination of your poem…..

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you for explaining Ivor, moonshine = peace and serenity while rainstorm = the sometimes turmoil, sitting at my bureaux turning over the next leaf of the writing pad who knows what might transpire – thank you for the continued encouragement.

      Liked by 1 person

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