Pike's Half Light

Here is the 3rd of David Pike's poems. Readers will recall his down-in-the-mouth and down-at-heel New Year poem and then the wonderful poem of the magical quicksilver trout.
Selected by Poet-in-Residence and published here with David Pike's kind permission is another lovely creation. This poem is taken from the September 2004 edition of 'Pulsar', a quality-content poetry magazine published and edited by David Pike and his wife Jill in Swindon, England -

Half Light

From an alley
near a park
a dog barked
a love song to the moon;
a refrain that few
would treasure

and the world
stood still
to listen...

The silver orb
glistened in the night sky
pulling tides by cosmic traction,
cool as ever

There was no reply
just a feeling of desolation;

a chill breeze
rustled the branches of trees
which inturn sighed
their lines -
to non-believers

and the dog growled,
annoyed by the moon's indifference
while denizens crept in the black depths
of shadow gloom,
creeping always creeping

as hours bled
from countless wounds
removing traces
of anaemic faces
in weathered frames
or flaking walls

while the invasive tune
resounded from tiles
in moonlit halls
of the known hinterland

later, clouds emerged
to blur the image
to the merest hint
of luminescence;
shards of light
split the night
with weak candescence

...as the hours evolved
the song dissolved to a mere residue,
something askew
and less than certain


c)- David Pike 2004

Poet-in-Residence is one poet and an editor of sorts who doesn't hold with the idea that good poetry, once published, be consigned to oblivion. Details of how to send your lost masterpiece for consideration at the Poet-in-Residence blogspot will be forthcoming in the next few days.

Meanwhile you may dig out those old favourites and keep them handy!