deepundergroundpoetry.com
Melancholy
The night with its dark brooding, melancholy
my thought, sullied the mind, taint the taste
from my mouth against the mornings too hasty
rise from over the hill.
The night with it's silent whispers, a backdrop
blackened canvas on which to inspire the spiritual
gathering before seeping away against the morning
tide leaving me stranded, bereft, wet of thought, till
the night, once more to play melancholy on my mind,
to be loved at the days end I shall remain patiently.
my thought, sullied the mind, taint the taste
from my mouth against the mornings too hasty
rise from over the hill.
The night with it's silent whispers, a backdrop
blackened canvas on which to inspire the spiritual
gathering before seeping away against the morning
tide leaving me stranded, bereft, wet of thought, till
the night, once more to play melancholy on my mind,
to be loved at the days end I shall remain patiently.
Published 16th Feb 2015
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16th Feb 2015 4:38pm
It's interesting that the night inspires the spiritual gathering while day leaves you stranded. I take it that you prefer the night despite it's being there "once more to play the melancholy on my mind." The melancholy seems to be a comfort while the night offers silent whispers. Excellent job, Rose.
16th Feb 2015 5:37pm
Thankyou dear Mr Crow
yes for me the night is often special
more so than the day
yes for me the night is often special
more so than the day
