FIRST: the poem which inspired...oh, yes, laugh--it's reminiscent of, of, would that be the old "the house that jack built"? ie, Joshua Amos Graff/aka Graff1980's poem--
Graff1980
4h@18:04, 29Oct17
Untitled
The phone store
is closed,
but I can still see
the sharp blue glow
of those
bright screens
blinking out at me
from the window
to the streets
where I am walking slowly.
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2187429/untitled/
SECOND: the comment his poem inspired and which he too generously told me I "should post."--
[He said Jenny Williams]--Like a ghost none sees, catching the lurid eye of those eyeless windows to the black hole of an eerie yonder, the speaker treads as if slippered through the darkness which itself is alive and aware, the scene commonplace, yet rendered thus with a poignant ghastliness, a delicacy. Thank you for sharing.
THIRD: the sonnet which I told him I'd endeavour to compose from that same comment, yet which is a frustrating reminder why as Stella Armour was it? told me years ago she did NOT want to force thoughts into sonnets, and I heartily concur: I'd far rather pour the unformed thought into that "most exquisite form of poetry" than try to squeeze a complete thought into that "gilded cage"--
...for Joshua Amos Graff's poem--
(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCXXII)
Likeas a ghost none sees where streetlamps fence
The blacker shroud of night, how in betrayl
'Non catching lo, the lurid eye's detail
Of those more eyeless windows harking thence
Unto the black hole of an eerie sense
Of yonder, how you tread as if t'avail
Now slippered through the darkness which in pale
'Scuse ah, itself's alive and 'ware. What hence?
You only put down for the page as twere
That lonely walk through naked streets left to
None else. Yet where dead cellphones look in poor
Excuse out, la, you render thus anew
What's common, but whose ghastliness in tour
Is poignant, delcacies I cherish. You?
29Oct17a
Haha, I gave my notes in laying this out, frustrated upon completing this sonnet because, as wont, it has lost the tantalizing thought's keen sense which provoked it, the thought itself being formed as it tripped out on the screen under my fingers, a thought I never had until the keyboard rendered it up, yet which now punishes me for forcing it out of existance into a sonnet. *cue a wry smile*
