in Poetry 36 Words

after midnight

sighing
softened whimpers
sparked by tribulation
fingers quaver as tears are wiped
stifling cries break the silence of the night
as clouds move to cover the sky
from lips a moan escapes
bosom heaving
sighing

# rictameter

39 thoughts on “after midnight”

  4. Reblogged this on richwrapper and commented:
    Yassy constructs a delicious though painful poem whose form I long have admired. She paints a wondrous moving scene and gives her visual artistic sense a ladder upon which others may climb. Thanks are but poor praise for enriching us but yours nonetheless.

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    1. You are so good , Bruce. Can’t thank you enough. Praise from the master poet, himself. This honor touches my heart. Thank you for the reblog. You have yourself a good weekend. I still waiting to sample your cooking.

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  5. Thanks, Yassy: I enjoyed climbing your poem and from middle-heights you bring movement which I hope washes the object’s pain with the healing balm of acceptance. I blink my eyes as if to readjust to the sun after reading. I am not, however, surprised: you do that so often. I only regret I yet have the time to enjoy the banquets you prepare. Be well and may you run out of ink often.

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  12. May you never run out of ink
    Perish the thought!
    Your soul an inexhaustible vault of words
    Your pen forever full
    What ere the format your poetry takes
    It cast a spell, a magic all your own
    I read your words I sigh too
    Knowing that this night I sit alone.

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