A Shout In The Apocalyptic Evening. A poem by C S Hughes

Quite alone
I will bend like triumph
To her laurels

Here, life has become
A struggle with silence
The band strikes up
In defiance or resignation
To that shimmering
Sunfall cacophony
Cymbal bright and
A last bombastic stand
In the syncline reverberation
Of new burgeoned night

I climb from the constraint
Of argon lights
As if this raddled orange stain
Were a final, civilised sphere of influence
An emissary of the grace-full sun
The dark a tendril crawling
When I open up to shout

The band, of course, plays on


C S Hughes lives safely tucked away in country Victoria, Australia, with a cat and an historian. He has been a spice seller, a hobo, a book dealer, a watch fixer and now a poet, drawing little distinction between these pursuits. You can find him and more of his works at https://www.facebook.com/cshoose

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