. Poetry from The Great In-Between: Covid Dreams of The Dearly Beloved

Thursday, October 28, 2021

Covid Dreams of The Dearly Beloved

Some say sad poems make the best reading.


What says you?

Whispers as I retire.
Salute.


Press play before you read.
It adds such an evocative edge.


(A lone voice whispers)


Take me in

From the grey ashes


Blowing like an early breeze

Within the deep cold recesses of your many


Hidden red rooms
In your fast-flowing mind

Lullaby
My once well-loved name 

As you quietly 
Sit still and try to breathe

Take me in
Eagerly

Lovingly
Once again

With your arms wide open and keep me real
Close

Even though 
I still silently
Sleep

Deep 

But carefully hidden from watchful or inquisitive eyes 

Maybe all around

Don't be so scared
As I'm forever going 
To be with you

For I'm now reborn to be eternal

I'm not one of the
Lonely 

Internally 
Bleeding dark emotions

Just walking around
Dreaming of 

Living but soon to be dead

Lost and wandering all
Alone

But
Within those crimson
Fires of distant memories

Like the legendary
Phoenix
Of Amu Mansu

I will be reborn and
I will rise
Forever

Don’t cry
And burn in strangers or friend's 

Undertows and always
Feel their projected pain

But instead, look within treasured memories and old photographs

To rebirth me 
Again and again

So take in these last words

In this
My final hidden love letter

I leave within my will
Now I'm too ill

As my final angelic 
Evocations

Before I forever surrender
To heaven 

Dreaming and murmuring about your beautiful green eyes

And long shimmering 
hair and spiritually
Captivating charms

For I'm 
Now but a soon to be gloriously illuminated 
Being

Still living
Without fear of 
Any earthbound

Limitations

Deep and forever tumbling

In a wild kaleidoscope 
Of broken shattered mirrors

But still always living eternally 

I hope
Deep inside of you

For to replace me
In time with another

Would just be a pale and cheap imitation 

When I see God and he asks me why I'm still smiling

As we stand together

In the Silver City by the Altar of Mortal Confessions

When I seek final  forgiveness for all my earthbound and physical sins

I'll just say 

I'm simply thinking about that fascinating young lady

Who once held her
Golden violin lovingly upright

Under a great old oak tree

In good old Long Island 

And who lovingly played a beautiful poetic tune 

Upon it 

Just for little old me



Copyright John Duffy 



I hope you enjoyed the whispers.

Until the next time.

Salute.


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