Solivagant on Glass Streets

Appreciated Ted. That's some exalted company. I wish.

Just clearing the drum, if you get my drift.

There’s a very lonely atmosphere to this poem. It makes me think of walking home at night. I especially love “Freezing fog weeps mercy along glassed gutters“. You really capture a sense of a haunted urban landscape.

Thanks Mr R. Inspired by a winter night walk when all was ice. All writers have their own unique voice. Just glad I have the opportunity to speak.

Many thanks R. Ice and glass are very useful metaphor machines. I appreciate your insights. You get me.

clever use of language

Many thanks. Appreciated.

Outstanding.  This seethes with an underlying brilliance that doesn't know that it is brilliant.  Like light that doesn't value itself with its level of brightness.  
 This write is so thick with literary nutrition.  
So well written.  Even in envy, I'm smiling.

Many thanks Styx. It's enough for me that my words resonate with a writer like yourself in here. I have a clandestine ink cave where I roam with more freedom.

Solivagant is an amazing word. I identify with that word so much!
I always feel like I am wandering alone so often. So many responsibilities,
and so many things that have happened in my life where I felt alone despite
not being alone in the normal sense.

I love how you have expressed how beauty can come at a great price.
How the Ballerina can be so beautiful but her feet are all cut up by broken glass.
And her ankles broke under the tremendous weight of her experiences.
Those catacombs of feeling and emotion that no one else sees or cares about.
Smashed bulbs of flowers and light crushed to pieces, never to bloom, always dark.

Always looking in those mirrors and wandering about the reflection.
Stuck in this igloo, the numbness somehow is the only comfort from the cold.

Dying poets expressing final whispers of a cruel life.
Ceramic children putting on a good show, everything is wonderful here.
Love and loss buried in the caves of the mind.

The freeze blocks out the light but again the numbness holds tight.
Watching this cinema and trying to burn out the bad memories to no avail.
Freezing cold weeping seems so serene now.

Looking deep into the eyes, you can start to see the pain there.
Stumbling through the iris, somehow a map to the soul...
And a lover is the only reprieve from this existence.

Father winter seems to stop time.  
I find that I need that so much. Because time leads to more death.
And as I wait, I feel him looming - waiting to take from me.
His shadow cast and scythe drawn and ready for the wheat of life.

The destination lies in ruins...
But I am building as fast as I can to block his path again.
It's just not working any more.

So I sit in the empty room of my mind crying...
And death sits beside me. I don't know if he is laughing or not.
Just that he has a big smile that perhaps he took from me.
And the light finally faded and went out.
But so did her suffering, even if mine continues on...

Sorry I have been so absent as of late.

Triple Dioch. Your insights and passion for the written word are a DU jewel. All my words come from my heart & soul and comments such as yours, validate the efforts of the craft.

This was a really touching resonance Kristina.

Your opening stanzas created gorgeous paradoxes, I feel like the third stanza both establishes intimate confidence and builds the milieu. The next few stanzas expand and contract the focal points with incredible minds eye presence. I love the alliteration and the slow gentle denouement. You're a master of the craft my friend, I read with emotion and admiration.