A Sunset

Poem By Bob Blackwell

He is a voice of shipwrecked marble,
greened and shattered statuary,
shouting pop songs to the morning.
Clothed in his exhausted changes,
cardigans moulting over rickracked
black skirt over broker's ruined suit,
which clings to him in another's shape,
he looks halfway from human.
There is nothing else he can do;
but bandage his dreads in knit caps,
bind in wool his arms and shins
against the delirium, insistent, delicate,
terrible, as a campaign of ants. He touches
his blind eyes, their leaking meats,
his lips, groin, last year's broken hip,
to constellate himself for the straits
of evening's rest. Hearing him sing
the songs of seven generations,
of hillbillies, castaways, mavericks,
we, the dying, who wait impatient
beside him, by our understanding
are comforted, soothed by his vision
of those green acres. Before him
a bus's pneumatic doors groan open,
like an old priest climbing to his knees
without conviction, and with a gesture
archaic as the lavish waste of new
vintages poured out onto dirt, the smoke
of pleasure and of sacrifice, the singer
cups his hands saying, fitfully, nothing.
The sweatshop-racket of cicadas,
a bird's two-note diminuendo like
a dog tied up outside, bluebottles purring
their little flesh-songs, decay and repair
—in the wind small things also cry.

Comments about A Sunset

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
6 total ratings

Other poems of BLACKWELL

! ! A Happy Person

Storm blown ripples
line my weathered brow,
face a map of life’s journey,
of striving, disappointments

! ! Life

This life,
this energy,
this consciousness,
we sense in

! ! Life Renewed

I look up into blue, blue heaven,
watching a cloud move slowly
drifting, floating, as it passes aimlessly
through the unique experience of

! ! A Moment

Just a moment.
Yes, a moment in time,
A moment in your day,
A moment in your life.

! ! A Slaughter Of The Innocent

Surreptitiously,
they came
ten assassins,
by boat

! ! At Daybreak

Sun rises on our anxious world,
Streams of light pass through trees,
to uncover a partial waiting scene.
Robin the day’s first sound, sings,