The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

Volume-1                                          december-2011                                                    Number-2

 

 

 

 

Morning

by Gerald Solomon

 

Puny in darkness, glad to wake up.

 

A bad dream is unreal real.

The sea was drowning in endless rain.

 

Reached out from dead water just

to grip my own wrist under the pillow

then hold tight to your cotton sleeve.

 

Now quite adrift I watch your passive face.

Eyelids unmoving. Asleep in breath.

 

Daylight, always unscathed, arriving slowly.

 

 

The Subject 

by Gerald Solomon         

 

Not to be a photo of himself!

In a mirror's steel glance — what?

 

Each day seemingly a copy,

casual variation his reproach.

 

Going down the street, revealed —

said something to someone he doesn't know.

 

At least humorous in misconceiving,

mocks his own ideas — with a little regret.

 

Without such dainty excursions,

does he finally decide? How?

 

ญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญญ___________________