Sunday, October 2, 2022

A Poem by Susan Dale

 
A Prophesy of Earth's Final Hours

Comes the night that swallows our feeble lights
And the moonstruck girl who sleeps under a gypsy moon
There is one day and a hundred years
Of the slow death of life
When burns a brazen sun
And howl contemptuous winds
There is a sad boy who
Stands under a broken bridge
And sells his songs
For a sixpence and a memory
There are loves' contortions: fierce, false
Spawning along a boulevard of broken dreams
And rains, cold that sing one kind of song
The barren sands, another
There are mystic dreads pounding at the door of dark
Songs ringing with the skirling music
That transcends earth and time

And at the far edges of yesterday
On the seaward side of tomorrow
Lamplights are fading
And the heavy-lidded eyes of the moon
Are closing on a fate that dares to dream



Susan Dale's poems and fiction are on WestWard Quarterly, Mad Swirl, Penman Review, The Voices Project, and Jerry Jazz Musician.  In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan.  The Spaces Among Spaces from languageandculture.org has been on the internet.  Bending the Spaces of Time from Barometric Pressures is on the internet now.  She has been nominated on Jerry Jazz Musician for the Pushcart Prize of 2022 with her poem: To Paul.



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