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Farewell Dark Curtain

Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.

Celebrate the sun and the Dark Curtain.

Celebrate the sun and the Dark Curtain.

I love to sit silently, stationary, and stare fearfully into (that) dark curtain

Watching the various colors and movement produced by life as it is.

This, all viewers of the silent artwork around us, there is no such thing as 'certain.'

The holiday passages, the scents and touch are mostly fizzle and fizz.

But what do I know? I am an old hand at loneliness, so that is why this poetic narrative

Can be given and dedicated to those strolling on the pier, dark and all alone.

I cannot judge the lonely or the happy circles of life or find guilt so massive.

I have lost the sight I once had through the Dark Curtain, it's bland colored tones.

Please, maidens fair, see the dark horses run to and fro

Begging like mankind gruff, for just a sip of water in roses bud.

In the Dark Curtain, fantasies are fulfilled, clouds appear

And the down-fallen, trodden men, drop quickly and shed their tears.

Dark Curtain, an old friend of mine since childhood games

My fall and scraping, "he" lifted me up and I was silent.

I fell quickly to my only friend knowing soon our secret names.

But still, Dark Curtain, no matter the adversity, "he" was my valiance.

In rhythm ith the sun.

In rhythm ith the sun.

See there, young lads of Scotland land's deep, grassy pastures

The sheep grazing silently and "he" looks happy to appear there.

But I, knowing my sudden age, feel ashamed, and cry empty gestures.

I beg for "him" and red-haired lasses to join to live near.

Drink quickly, king and queen with solid answers strong

I am old, lost, sick and can no longer run long.

Dark Curtain late in cloudy day, I am not here to belong.

I would be happy with a red-haired lass with her one song.

The icy summer evening breeze slowly faded . . .

All life, big, small, dark, and tall ceased.

While a throng of hungry eagles flew to the sun . . .

When they disappeared, not a statement. Not a pun.

My heart slowed to a risky beat . . .

I noticed her silent laughing

Snowflakes kissed my waiting sight

The last furl, the last curl . . .

the Dark Curtain went to "the" light.

Solace at each dawn.

Solace at each dawn.

These photos were used on this hub:

© 2020 Kenneth Avery

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