Sunday, November 29, 2009

demon lover





when i was a child in ages dark
demons chased me through the park
and angels though in charge in me
laughed loudly at my misery

and when i finally tripped and fell
you raised me with the hand of hell
angel born and demon bred
you introduced me to the dead

the dead whose wide and staring eyes
were whiter than the winter skies
who sat all night on fog wet benches
sad sentinels of eternal trenches

the dead whose soft and wordless lips
twisted like slowly sinking ships
in black and bottomless seas
in unreverberating reveries


6 comments:

Megan said...

A brilliantly accomplished poem. Your words and rhythm am put me in mind of Blake.

The third is the penultimate stanza for me:

"The dead whose wide and staring eyes
were whiter than the winter skies."

Can't we always see the dead best in winter?

Your artwork is jarringly beautiful.I have so enjoyed your work on this blog.

Ande said...

wonderful rythm, it gives me a feeling of entanglement.

timmy said...

megan and ande,
thank you both very much

PO Johnson said...

Absolutely wonderful. Thank you Timmy.

Jenny said...

Lovely poem. Multilayered and unpredictable.

Francis Scudellari said...

I really like Megan's comparison to Blake, who I'm a big fan of. This has that same mystical, dream like feeling to it. And of course Blake was a master illustrator.