Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Near the End of a Meeting of the Live Poets Society

A black clock
Was what I saw,
With white numbers
That were really planets,
Which ticked around
The round void.
We saw it all
Upon our wall,
And now we waited
As it commanded.
But one of us wanted
To say one more poem,
Not stopped by the clock,
Though the meeting had ended.
The poem would be sung,
Unafraid of time,
Unabashed, clear,
As it took a ride
On the white numbers
That were actually planets,
Forming a ring
In a void not inimical.
So the song did go down;
The song did go up
On a Ferris Wheel,
Measureless, 
Whose fun stops
Only to fearlessly
Start again--
Its turning renewed,
Slightly improved,
Surprisingly dependable,
Our glee unreproved.
But can a song be free
From clock and void?
Are we allowed to see
Our glee go free?


      © Stephen Margulies, 2018

Eye on the Bay, Bridlington ~ Yorkshire, England
Photo by Paul Glazzard
from the Geograph Project
on Wikimedia Commons



1 comment:

Anonymous said...

There is no ego like an artist's. That is how it should be...

WGV