Waiting for the train

Satisfied am I with the twisting melodies of yesterday’s yearning?

Driven am I to bedeck my mind in frivolities of yesterday’s learning?

Poking holes in theories ill-suited to soulish life

but still beholding too near my swollen strife.

* * *

Come what may, then, bestir what’s left of daytime’s faith

and mix it up and blend it till sweet to the taste.

Whirl these dervishing bedevilments and find the pearls made sand,

and make them pearls again – in heart, less than in hand.

* * *

Make the numbers match the math when teasing out the will

to sit, to silence all, the tongue, the words, and still

endure with me these acrid hours like waiting for the train

of hopeful dreaming coming soon, once more to love again.

6 thoughts on “Waiting for the train

      1. Robert Rife

        Melody, trust me on this, you must read as much Hopkins as you can get your hands on. He was a Catholic priest whose poetry is almost unmatched in intensity, lexical word-play, and beauty. Read “Windhover”, “Pied Beauty”, “God’s Grandeur” just to name a few.

      2. Robert Rife

        That’s the fun of the arts community. We share each others’ work and biggest influences. Gotta love that.

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