Thursday, December 10, 2009


When I'm invited out,
no doubt, to that place
we each must go,
I'll step blithe not grim, trimmed in
patterned suits.

Plaid-scented tears atop
herringbone-stretched smiles,
layered over
paisley-flavored sighs, I'll spin
peopled years

to gargle my garb fresh
in bathing. And bathe
I will, striding
toward the bric-a-brac bridge
that spans

I may waver before
my wavelengths dive,
but then I'll jump
to swirl in the bobbing chill
and feel
a measured



Geraldine Moorkens Byrne said...

Lovely. A very interesting, and beautifully constructed poem!

Gerry Boyd said...

Stanza two musically rocks in an overall wonderful piece. Bravo!

Megan said...

Wonderful poem, Francis.

"I may waver before
my wavelengths dive,
but then I'll jump..."

Sounds just about right.

Francis Scudellari said...

Thanks Geraldine, Gerry and Megan. On the advice of a friend, I'm going to post an alternate version of this to my own blog. I'm not sure yet which take I prefer.