Saturday, April 16, 2011

reverie # 19

by horace p sternwall

picture by rhoda penmarq

it's never time to turn the page
it's always time to blow some gage
don't worry about anything
the telephone will never ring

the landlord's footsteps softly fall
disappearing down the hall
outside the windswept raindrops sweep
across the street's eternal deep

nothing else will ever be
this is the reality
the book falls from the dreamer's hand
blue waves on blue and silver sand

no prophet, hierophant or sage
tells it truer than righteous gage


Old 333 said...

That was really cool. And now I have bookmarked some Langston Hughes to read, as a result of being so unhip as to not know what 'gage' was. It looks interesting! Loved this poem - thanks for it, and for the spur to thought.


Dan Leo said...

This made my weekend.

Letitia Coyne said...



kathleenmaher said...

Go Horace!
And, Old 333,Langston Hughes was great. He wrote my favorite poem:

Sometimes a crumb falls
From the tables of joy
Sometimes a bone
Is flung.

To some people
Love is given,
To others
Only heaven.