| Muses Review Mark Stellinga's Poetry |
----------------------- Sample Poem 5: The Saga of Margie and Tim Source: Phonetical Imagery, (2004) #53 We all have known love as a child one time, gazing for hours, whispering in rhyme. So very important, so urgent things seemed, A thought never known, a dream never dreamed. And the wonder and hope in the fragile young eyes of our little romantic, as (he desperately sighs), reflects from his face 'neath a full yellow moon, where the eyes of our lover now lay, though he knows that the moon won't betray him, he finds it has nothing to say. So down on his knees top a pillow he crouches, suspecting a tear and a sigh well in place, the sleepy young beggar repeats his confusion, the light of a candle distorting his face, wide eyed and anxious, a wonder of life, with a small bedroom window to frame. "Margie", he beckons, (he feels his heart pounding each time that he whispers her name)! Then gently he leans through the small bedroom window, spilling his curls on the sill, gold in the moonlight, soft in the moonlight, as it drifts through the evening so still. Then neatly arranging his small satin fingers, he nods with a puff to the light. (nobody knows that he peeks while he's praying, for praying with all of his might), he's entirely alone now, no moon or a candle bewildering our big little-guy, and when he has finished, expecting an answer, he gazes again at the sky. But only the breeze in the warm air of autumn, so gentle and soft to be heard, is witness to what he is searching his heart for, all in that magical word. He sits without moving, though nothing before him will capture the answer for which he must search. Though he knows that adrift on the winds of the evening the answer is out there, and falls from his perch to the arms of the sandman at the edge of his bed, and has no more than whispered his prayer, when all of a sudden, from out of the stars, on the warmest and sweetest of air, sails the faintest of murmurs, and he thinks he has heard her, so embracing the moon with a glance, he expectantly leans from his window and searches, hoping for only a chance, a chance to be certain, to know she is calling, to know she is calling for, "Tim". Now he stares at the moon and cries "Margie...... I love you!" He is sure she is calling to him. But it's late. There are stars all around him. He's confused. Though he's happy, he weeps. He curls up with a smile, though he sniffles a while, and he drifts with his dream, as he sleeps......... |