Tales of Happiness I

I have the grey on me
Perhaps it's the sky or this throw, the bed or the walls or the breeze-
It’s like comfort, the grey , and I love it, for it warms me,
it’s pale and dusted, gleaming. yet still. and opaque. Like silver.
I sit on this throne of grey.
Shrouded in the midst of the tip toeing day.

And the bells
that rang in the towers       
clanged, hollow and old
Mysteriously groaning,
As I passed on my bicycle, riding down the road.
A woman, whom had aged tirelessly, moved fragilely,
In a velvet, red robe, she stepped so lightly..
And she clutched her purse and hood so tightly,
In the wind, I watched her.
And rode passed her smiling.
For the children nearby this woman, so frail and old,
Were happily exclaiming, pointing at the bells in amazement, as they tolled.
And I threw up my hood
And dreamed of a peaceful world.
Much like what I saw
Simple and just.
Like an innocence forever dawns
As each inhale is taken in good thought.
It’s a place I’ve visited, and even often see
There are the passing nights
Where the city seems to sleep so soundly.
For I do.
And I dream lucidly of such a music
That deafens the war,  and see, I do not tug nor do I pull
I Simply wade in the gales of the midnight moon
In a room with silver walls.

Reviews

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T..]

Sometimes, I just get lucky. I think this might be one of those times. What I get from this piece is nothing less than a sense of deft, atonal rapture. There are lyrical notes emerging from beneath the gray overlay that keep just ahead of the mind's eye at a wheel-turning pace via tempos of prosaic color opposites. I wonder, randomly, if the the use of cyan with the word "red" has further enhanced the dextro-levorotory sensations of balanced dizziness that each unseparated stanza tattoo upon themselves with hidden perforations; made with the rounded tip of the phrasing palette knife. I've read similar things, snippets of Whitman and others... and this too has a sense of deep sensory cultivation and respect for observation that bears itself out in the balanced calculus of the hidden forms. A superior work that should be read by more, many more... and in the best times and traditions of solemn retreat.

[kublakhan27]

The human condition is on full display here, in what the speaker sees in her own mind in comparison to the world she sees around her...a great piece, well done.

[Jazmen]

Hey, thanks for the kind review! I really appreciate it.

[kublakhan27]

No problem :)

[Pete Langley]

For me, the heart of this poem is..`Like an innocence forever dawns as each inhale is taken in good thought.` I have an image of a painting - seemingly of an ordinary street scene - or a memory, conjuring the peace of another time in the minds eye and reliving that comfort from the greyness of moonlight. I love this poem. P.

[Jazmen]

I think that line is the heart too. Thank you for taking the time to review this poem, Pete; I'm pleased to understand you appreciate it.

[B-poet]

Very eloquent, with a vivid description as to why this tale of happiness catches my eye as a nice work of written art. Nice job. :)

[Michael Kevin Spencer]

highly readable and expansive with gripping plot.

This was a good sensation of poetic vocabulary. Feel free to enter my contests.

[Androglossia]

This poem is beautifully crafted, I say. It has a gentle disposition, almost contagious. I especially admire your way of molding the range of your words from something minor to long-lasting crave for something big and important. Beautiful.