Exhale — let spirit
with first November’s
rancid, ripe and fungi-filled,
in autumn’s lack of light.
Exhale — let loose
this reek of death-decay;
because this night
is ruler, over-shadow-lord and king.
Exhale — let hope be faint
You, still strong.
For Kerry at toads, 55 words for a very dark start of November.
November 2, 2019
Your poetry is always so rich (the best description I can conjure) … this one no exception.
I enjoyed the thought of exhaling each new scene . A haunting poem .
Dark and full of rich imagery.
Wow, I love this.
I love the dark atmosphere this poem radiates
I find it interesting that it is all exhale, and never once an inhale. There is only so much we can put out if we don’t bring in *something*. There will be nothing left of us if we keep doing that. The last line then seems to be a study in self-deception, more of a wish than anything based in reality.
I can’t help read this in a voice like a witch’s chant over a black kettle of potion…
The second stanza❤️ and the artwork.
Yes, it sounds like an incantation…I too love your second stanza…dark and delightful poetry
A most beautiful poem, Bjorn. You have captured the mood of the season in the scents of decay, the reminder of endings but also the breath of life that clings to hope.