One Star in Sight

[rowens]

One Star in Sight


October is my favorite month,
and so the most difficult month,
washed away on gallons of thought,
my nightmares come to be friends
and my dreams are sweet and breathed
into me on the air of autumn.

The old middle school and dark backroads
and underground towns I seem to find myself in.
These are not symbols but real.
I see evidence in the rock quarry
and the stone tunnels under tiny bridges.
I see them in my family and in my friends.

There is a light between the sun and moon
that is not a reflection but is;
like the self beyond the mirror and accepted 
knowledge. The love (that brings her back)
like Greek gods and local folklore
and proven urban legends on streetlit highways.
Bright melancholy of doubt and acceptance.

A certainty beyond faith.
The fields are dark now but
yellow, and I can feel them.
The breeze blows gently in voices
the humming silence in the distance makes frightening,
frightening in the still silence of all present moments
day or night, but especially night
in October, where she, or something, anything,
could be there, listening.

[billy]

well well well you bugger [bugger is more of an english word]

this is so unlike most of you're stuff rowens. it definitely has a haunting quality about it. lots of imagery and quietness. lots of original lines like [The breeze blows gently in voices] for me personally it's excellent poem. i like it maybe too much because i can't fault it. i suppose if i were forced to i could find something to point out but i'm not forced to and it works perfectly as is. thanks for the reads.

[alonso ramoran]

Hi rowens,

This is pretty haunting as billy states, with images like streetlit highways and old middle schools. There are a couple lines that seem unnecessary like S3L7 and S4L1, but other than that this is pretty well-written. Thank you for the read.

Best, Alex

[rowens]

I've been sitting around writing these kinds of poems a lot lately. Autumn does it to me. Some are better than others. But they keep me going. I'm trying to read some of the latest poems here. Don't shut down before I can think of some reasonable critiques. . . . And, as for those two unnecessary lines, I think the second is the least necessary. But . . . They make their odd points, with my obsessions with melancholy Romanticism and religious faith and the beyonds of them.