Friday, January 15, 2010

The Night Howls Hysteria at the Moon

Sheets of paper lie shredded on the ground -
words that once made sense, now jumbled,
tumble aimlessly in the wind, someday
strewn in regions so far apart they'll not
call up memories: staying submerged,
until drowned. Fleeting smiles' spent
energy fades in time to the gray haze
engulfing a foggy beach as witness
to the cruel ends that swallow treasures
at the bottom of a dark, cold ocean.

Don't sing me anymore songs or paint
another spring landscape - they haunt
the empty echoes reverberating through
the last lost shades of color reflected
as dusk envelopes the Pacific sunset.

The night howls hysteria at the moon
while dogs bark and cats screech
in drunken alleyways of a forgotten
past: the last line cast to mooring
pillars, slithers awry, all sense defied.

A caterpillar crawls across a leaf's stem
seeking a secure refuge to shed its skin
which will harden into its cocoon,
but the vulnerable pupa offers a tasty
meal before ever having a chance
to form into a chrysalis, leaving no time
to transform into a butterfly.

Sidewalks erupt under foot as discordant
jazz plays in the nearby cafe. Colors run
together, leaving a muddy wash background
coagulating in the sewer of my veins,
and the last violin sonata strains derange as
the night howls hysteria at the moon.

2 comments:

Gerry Boyd said...

Among many lovely lines, these stood out for me:

"they haunt the empty echoes reverberating through the last lost shades of color reflected as dusk envelopes the Pacific sunset."

Bravo!

Shoreline Driftwood said...

Thank you, Gerry. You are always kind and supportive. I appreciate your reflections because you give me insight into what might be working. :-)