The Other Side of the Afterglow

With a bottle in my hand
And the waves’ lulling command
The moon’s daunting sight
Entrenches me in the night
The stars flicker in the sky
Just a blur through these tears I cry
I’ve been cold and lonely for a while
Disencumbered from any reason to smile
Even the absinthal lies
I’d cloaked within a honeyed guise
Have fallen prey to my lack of joy
In this abjection I find no decoy
Lost in the darkest of my days
When the laughter is misplaced
And the light dare not shine on
For the happiness has gone
The torture is hard to define
Drunken ice-chilled sips of wine
In search of a harmonious home
I wait and wade in this ocean of frozen foam

30 thoughts on “The Other Side of the Afterglow

  1. The couplets deliver the narrative in a staccato style that pointillates the theme very well but it is the language that excels in this piece: ‘absinthal lies… within honeyed guise’ is Keatsean poetry. My compliments on this fantastic work which is a pleasure to read.

  2. Hello Eva…Just this morning I found a comment from you in my spam queue..don’t know how it got there but was happy to see it and wanted to thank you..I know you haven’t a whole lot of time for visiting blogs and commenting so a word from you is precious. I do keep current with your own posts here….and am nothing less than amazed by the ease with which you handle rhyme and imagery….keep on keeping on!

  3. Absinthal, now that is a word and a half…well technically it is a word but you know what I mean. Your words always show the depths that the soul can traverse and I am interested to see what you write when you surface back into the light.

  4. I appreciate your comment most of all because you are such a wonderful writer, and a very nice person here on wordpress. You know, the rhyme part of my poetry, coupled with imagery, I give credit to a former college professor of mine. She meant the world to me, and it broke my heart when she passed away. I learned most of what I know, (or should I say I emulate her style?) from her. Again, thank you for the kind comment. xx

  5. Wow. That’s a real compliment! I apologize for the lack of mirth in my poetry, but in the depths of my soul there’s more darkness than light. I’m trying. Truly. It’s just tedious and heart- achy trying to climb my way out of this pit where lots of debris from what was born of what seems Satan’s ass has taken my soul and heart and torn them asunder, and it’s dark here so finding all those pieces to glue back together has been less than joyful. Yah, that was a crappy description, but maybe you’ll get my point. Anyway, my wish for you is to never feel as I do. Yet, I do have a more well-lit, hopeful poem in my queue waiting it’s turn in line to be posted. It was written on a night that I imbibed a bit too much, but the result wasn’t too bad. I didn’t bother editing. Heck, editing feels like giving a newborn baby plastic surgery. xx

  6. Nice analogy! Hopeful is always good after a few, I may have to try the same…I will probably tailor it by putting on some opera at ridiculous levels of volume, it may aid the jolliness…or not. The struggle to find the pieces will be a worthwhile one…there is always a torch to be had, it’s just knowing where to find it…Personally dousing anything in petrol and setting it aflame can be fun.

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