Next

Perhaps at the beginning
And at the end perhaps
The day shines cold on San Francisco
Tries not to fall into
The sea warms quickly
All the way to the pole
Ice berg melts polar
Bears
Whimper at the edge of
Tomorrow perhaps
Will be forgotten
Poets forgotten
Interim governments
Go the way of the scent
Of perfuming peppermint leaves
Almost forgotten
Europeans on the shores of
Africans on the shores of
Berbers and electricians
Singing in the shadows
Perhaps a kingdom without a king
A religion without a savior
A civilization without
A civil servant
Opening the cold door of
Perhaps

Pete, I like the social consciousness you show here. I'm curious though, about the title. Any clues you'd care to relate?


Les

Les,

I don't know what comes next. I feel like I am center stage, introducing the act that will follow me from beyond the curtain, call out, 'Next.' The title to this poem was going to be 'Perhaps,' but it turned out to be 'Next' before I got the whole thing down on paper.

amo,

Peter

Thanks for the explanation, Peter. It helps me to direct my focus sometimes if I know the author's emphasis.

Les

ON THE CLOCK
Treasures are missing away,
Infinitally being dead.
Consumed enough by the Ones,
Kicked off, so on.

Temperature goes up,
Ice on the Poles goes down.
Catastrofic climate, so,
Kicking off the nohumen.
The word key is
The time is gone, TckTckTck.
Inverse is the way…
Couse…
Keecked off The Day.
gema off
09/12/09



Peter, I'd attached here 2 zip files of Poems written in English, for You open them and see the colours of the types showing the skeleton of the acrostic form.

Less, please, see my replay to Peter.