12. Camera Obscura

A 'scream' is always just that - a noise and not music. Carl Jung

I’m dying every night,

a moment in the shadow

of a grinning moon,

a count in the sneaky gliding

of a cloud upon the light.

 

My thought is a hobo

on the sound of a crow,

I’m closing the brightness

doubt after doubt.

 

The sharp of their edges

stripped of any kind of reason

is cutting as a knife in these sounds.

 

Out of my throat falls a scream

into a dark and silent room,

I disappear in the waves of the tide

in this dream that I have

of a sleep that is waxing.

 

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

26/11/2014

Author's Note

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Amazing use of words.
"My thought is a hobo
on the sound of a crow,
I’m closing the brightness
doubt after doubt."
The above lines were my favorite. Honest thoughts led reader to deep thoughts and the unknown. Thank you Rudi for sharing your outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

Thanks, thanks, thanks, John, for all your kind words. :) Rudi

[Coyote Poetry]

I love your work and you are welcome.