poetryrepairs #239 v17.07:081

VERNON WARING : The Universe Tilts & other poems On a Pier

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On a Pier

You're waiting for me somewhere on a pier silent in the mist fog surrounding you your hands trembling - how I miss that tremble - your fingers moving nervously feverishly like knitting needles flashing in the wind so palpable so wondrous and you're waiting for me I think of you always and will miss you forever whatever swept you away that brusque winter morning has departed long ago we never said good-bye or held hands or kissed there were no final gestures Weeks later in a sleepless moment I thought I saw you standing near me looking serious and bewildered but I know my mind was playing tricks on me now I can only hope you hear these words hear the ache in my voice the longing that is ceaseless the words rolling ever so slowly toward you waiting there on that nameless mystical pier

poetryrepairs #239 v17.07:081


Eleven years ago, I was standing in a field surrounded by towering trees. As on many nights before, I was taking my dog Scotty for a walk, and then letting him run loose for a short time. This particular night he seemed anxious, restless. He began to howl - a bloodcurdling, evil bark that shattered the stillness on that crisp autumn evening. He seemed to be responding to something only he could sense and then there was an enormous floating cloud, a sort of heavy mist that filled the atmosphere quickly. Suddenly a spaceship with blinking green and yellow lights materialized and landed not so far from where we were. I lost sight of the dog, just heard him barking wildly in the distance. A door opened on the spaceship and a steel gray robotic creature with one red eye in the middle of its head stepped out. It was brandishing a silver sword and it was then when the entire field became engulfed in an overwhelming darkness. I was in shock and started to run. Somehow, even with all this terror and confusion, I made it home. Breathless, anxious, fearful, I told my wife what I'd seen and heard. She approached me, grabbed my trembling locked fist, and pried it open; Scotty's leash fell soundlessly on the rug. Startled and sobbing, she shrieked, "Where's Scotty? What happened to Scotty?" I had no answer then. Or now.

poetryrepairs #239 v17.07:081

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