Forgotten Turns

Three and four and five o'clock:
I can't tell you where to go.
I sit in the cellar, smelling the perfumes,
Waiting on a rainbow caught in the clouds,
Laughing at the whistle stuck in the tree
Outside my window.
While you kindle some wood,
Make plans for the government,
Try to tell yourself which way is up.

But the window is still closed.
The batteries are dead.
Yesterday is trying to make a come back.
And the ringing in my ears
Tells me you're not here for very long.
I wonder what you'll do when the angels declare defeat,
The senators vote on deceit,
The preachers practice what they preach
And the rail lines finally meet.

I got to get myself out of the game for a while,
Play trumpet at the edge of the field,
Make myself scarce,
Remember its not real --
Unless the lovers embrace,
Someone else has taken my place,
Unless I'm gone without a trace.

Make amends and beg equality
For roosters and magicians--
When they take their cards off the table.
Bring back all the stars of the social program
That's taken time to take effect,
Wonder what's happening here,
Take the long way home
And decide to hide back in the bathroom
Where Isosceles met the great geometer
Padding his cell, trying not to spell 'wintertime is here.'

It all seems so clear
When tomorrow borrows
An extra blanket
Before getting ready to get home.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/10/2013 02:48AM by petersz.

A masterful job here, Peter. I enjoyed this one from start to stop.

Les

As sometimes happens, I wrote this one listening to Dylan's "Visions of Johanna.' Can't blame it on him though. Thanks for stopping in and for the praise, Les.

amo et avanti,

Peter

The imagery and phrashing held me throughout. Poetry, indeed.

Joe

That dimension of this poem is why I go through the exercise of writing something while I am listening to Dylan, Joe...I let him be my genius for richness.

Thanks for stopping by.

Amo and Avanti,

Peter

Bad on me! I left off the final line...

Before getting ready to get home.