Slumber,
Sunlight slips between,
The curtains I drew.
A glimmer of glitter,
In the dust it blew.
The birds call out,
Wait for me.
As I toss and turn,
In a tasteless sleep.
They flock to the trees,
Such a sweet melody,
They bring me a smile,
As I write an elegy.
I slip on my socks,
A heart on my tongue,
I boil some tea,
Ponder the young,
A pause too long,
Birds they beckon,
A Cup half full,
I’ll join them I reckon.
I set down my spoon,
I gulp my tea,
I pick up my pistol,
And they sing for me.
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Posted May 6, 2019, 10:07 PM UTC
Love the rhyming scheme in this, the flow compliments the ending well.
Great imagery in the first stanza and as much as I agree that slip is the best way to describe how light enters through the curtain gaps I think it is a bit of an overused word to describe that imagery. Maybe I'm wrong on this though
I'm a little confused in the fifth stanza when you mention cup half full, it feels to me that a cup half empty would be a perspective more fitting of the final stanza. However this would mess up the flow and maybe I haven't understood it correctly.
Overall this is a nice piece that digests well and I enjoyed the imagery and sharp turns it takes between birds and intent!
Thank you, I appreciate your kind words! I think you’re probably right, and I might try to change the poem a little bit to reduce any overused imagery. The speaker in the poem is viewing the suicide in a positive light, which is why I chose “cup half full”. This was to represent the speaker finding joy in the little things that filled their morning, rather than dwelling on the act they were about to commit.
Ah well that explains it! I had a small suspicion that was the case, anyways it's good work.