The Writers Voice
Favourite Literary Website
pointed tails flap and slap with each gust,
Giant angry bat wings, tethered, cannot break free.
One, two, three
He stands erect, in one hand he grips a weekend
His top hat reveals a scrawny neck and neat
Seven, eight, nine
Thoughts of loneliness emanate, radiate with
Shirt sleeves escape the bag, waving, wanting to be
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen
Unmoved, eyes open or closed, he faces the ancient
In the winter sunlight, he resembles a shadow, an
Twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine
Shirt sleeves embrace his legs, begging freedom or
Unseen bellows blow the day into fury, frenzy,
Forty three, forty four, forty five
High gaping windows stare down at him, uncaring,
A pidgeon momentarily takes refuge on a sill and
then is gone.
Fifty nine, sixty, sixty one
Mumbled words fade in and out of the wind strewn
Maybe curses or verses or a prayer destined for
Seventy five, seventy six, seventy seven
I was behind him and above, captivated, fascinated,
Remote, detached, unfeeling but anticipation grew.
Eighty, eighty one, eighty two
I heard my name, looked up, saw my fall,
Flittingly, his face at the window; the rest I
Ninety two, ninety three, ninety four
He visibly shuddered, screaming words of sorrow,
Towards the tower he stumbled and blundered.
Ninety eight, ninety nine
.. he approached his
As rains rode the winds and the heavens thundered.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work