Friday, January 30, 2015

White Knight

 Click on image to enlarge...

Clouds are White...Wikipedia

The night lay white beneath the light of black on white where stars
Washed the swirled colors of the world to far and foreign bars
Beneath a canopy of moonless midnight people sleep
Save for the white-faced poet with a white-spaced charge to keep

The sound of silence slides along the fence-line, street and lane
It runs through white-washed meadows like a silk and satin train
It pauses where the profile of white nothingness is marred
A little light to touch with gold the white-knighted postcard

The dusty haze and musky ways of midnight in July
Are muffled by a diamond glaze that flutters from the sky
Its rests upon the rooftop and it nestles on the sill
And pours white whispers from a flask where poet’s drink their fill

The clouds at night are not as white as clouds of middle-day
But wise-men snore their sagely snores as well on shores of gray
Among the stars a pontoon drifts where poets sift through white
And trawl the rise and falling call of one more poem to write

© Janet Martin


  1. I'm afraid I "snored my sagely snores" while you wrote this poem..
    I cannot pick my favorite line - such beautiful words. Magic.

  2. ...and I know you feel better than I do for it this morning;-)
    Every so often I need to write at middle-night. Thought feels words differently at the high-arc of dark:)

  3. Having just ridden a train... "a silk and satin train" - I really like that line.
    On the return trip I have a habit of sitting the opposite way and end up seeing where I have been.
    I like that silk and satin train... (of a white wedding dress down the the back of the train of ones memory. Smooth.) Smooth like the "white whispers from a poets flask..."

    Double well done!

  4. ...that's what the soft snow-fall seemed like last night, a white silk-satin train...I like your imagery:) Thank-you, Jules.


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