Thursday, January 1, 2015

Philip Bartram - The Pale Rider

Welcome to the debut of Black Poppy Review.  Our first post arrives at the gates carried on a cold Winter wind from the east.  Wishing all our new readers and poets a prosperous New Year filled with health, happiness, and intrigue.


The Pale Rider 

Something seen, something out
Of sight, something cold and blown back
Arrives again.  She, not named and blurred,
Gown and mist blowing,
Glides yet not touched in the
Streetlight's gray motion.  Her eyes, her
Thoughts winterized.
A once hard form now dissolved;
Without blood, without bone, her
Face will not cradle the
Vague strings of rain.
Perhaps she searches in the bold
Darkness for a child's lost vertigo,
A touch on waking or the scent of
Her French-motif bridal bed.
Perhaps in another beseeching ride
Between the stone bridge at Fifth Street
And top of the hill,
A motorist will rescind
That coldness, that motion, that dissolution.
  






Philip Bartram graduated from Marshall University in Huntington, WV.  He lives in Bel Air, Maryland and is recently retired.  He writes occasionally.  His latest poem was published in The Camel Saloon. 

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