Tuesday 15 October 2013


CAROUSEL
                                                                                                                       
When you contemplate ending it all – where do you see yourself?
Away on a rock with sea rising and the wind tugging at your clothes, sucking you over that edge?
Or perhaps you are sidling into a mirror lake, cold as fingers, slippery as phlegm, to slide from view - to gasp and heave to nought?
Or looking down the long, so long tracks, to that vanishing point, as a bright one-eyed mutant bears down blaring?
Or quietly in the bathroom, the door locked, the water brimming, the razor kind on the shroud white towel?
Or perhaps in the kitchen, the small bottle hard clicked open, the contents scoffed in fistfuls?
Or – I know - in your garage, with water on the floor and a screwdriver in the plug socket?

When you conjure a scenario to do yourself in – when do you see it?
At a brisk dawn, stretching and yawning to meet you half way?
Or as a lobster broiled in the heat of the sun at the noon of the day?
Or at the night’s gate where you fade together into the softest bed of dark?
Enough.
Enough.
All is sweetness now I hear your voice again.
Clear, and the lark is rising, the moon held still in her arc in blue.
The children are fed and abroad.
The river is deep but steady.
The fish are hiding.
Bring me a flower from the garden and I shall rest a while.

Colin Morgan  

11 comments:

  1. Can hardly swallow… how you write so honestly, and the turn from black to the light of a flower… that you find there enough for one more day. A powerful piece of poetry.

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  2. actually it is usually over a cliff watching the rocks rush at me...
    and the flower approaching me so very fast....
    but then i get brought back from the edge...smiles.

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  3. love the hearing his voice again... the flower from the garden...sometimes i wonder how it will be.. i kinda like the wind sucking me over the edge thought...

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  4. Intense words that I love, great piece!

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  5. Dark, disturbing - and what a relief at the end.

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  6. Takes you to the edge, and then softly and securely brings you back again.

    "All is sweetness now I hear your voice again.
    Clear, and the lark is rising, the moon held still in her arc in blue.
    The children are fed and abroad.
    The river is deep but steady.
    The fish are hiding.
    Bring me a flower from the garden and I shall rest a while."

    Well done!

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  7. I admire the turn in the last stanza, there is gentleness & comfort found ~

    Thanks for sharing ~

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  8. Moving, Intense Imagery. Very nice!

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  9. Like Grace, I love the turn, so sweet to rest there a while

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  10. Chilling, good to know there's a way back from the brink.

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  11. To the edge and back again, strong powerful piece.

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