The Raven Leaves a Note
Jostling through the crowd
While cabmen lean on their horns,Businessmen on their phones,
& Coffee fumes escape a Starbucks
Like steam from a manhole cover,
A remnant of his fragrance
Lingers on my face and pulls
Me forward through the morning rush
On a cloud of ethereal beauty.
Not for this I toil in vain,
This pitiful species of man;But to find my fear and feel its name,
To whisper in morning’s first light,
To feel the fear released again
By love’s tenderest caress
Of the blade to the throat through the blood
And the light
And the oxygen that colors
The brightness to dark
And sweet perfection is saved, spared
The aging decrepitness.
Perfection for evermore, evermore.
Quoth – The Raven (It is I.)
Three-word Wednesdays provides three words each Wednesday that are used to create something. This week 3WW chose jostle, fragrant, and remnant. After I found the image where these three words coalesced in my mind, I chose to go a little further because I always want to have a bit of mystery, murder, or mayhem afoot. Hopefully you picked up on that, and also picked up that this is the note "The Raven" sent or left for the police, the reporters, and ultimately the public, to explain. Why do you think The Raven does what (s)he does? Can you think of a serial killer in fiction who thought like this?
6 comments:
I love how you bring quite weighty symbolic imagery into the modern arena..the raven must surely dwell in Starbucks..the flow and pace were superb also..Jae
Thanks, Jae. I'm trying to grow and that is a wonderful skill to aspire to. I appreciate your comments.
"A remnant of his fragrance
lingers on my face" For all the frenetic and beautifully described rush to work the remembrance
of being with him was a delicious touch.
Such beautiful symbolism.
Oldegg, my favorite line, too. For those who've had the pleasure, "ah, the sweet smell" that lingers later is truly a moment of happiness repeated. Thanks for commenting.
Ah, Sheilagh Lee, thank you. I am touched you found it so. I sometimes think my poems are like my music playing - only I can hear what I'm doing. Your words are encouraging. Thanks for sharing them.
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