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There is a presence here,
can't you feel it crackling
through the evening air?
Creeping into the mind
as an invasion by consent.
A candle flame flickers
as an errant string thrums,
a note of announcement
and precedent to an army
set to join the invasion.
There is a presence here,
can't you feel it cloying
at open waiting ears,
seeping over the babble
as an intrusion most welcome.
A chord breaks silence
as a voice slow gently hums
a prelude to old new songs,
an accompaniment to a jangle
as the errant string conforms.
There is a presence here,
can't you hear it calling
to the blood in your veins,
freezing the moments solid,
speaking at corpuscular levels.
An excitement of particles
agitate an expectant atmosphere,
curved air starts to resonate
an apocryphal truism that
there is a Presence … here.
© Pagan Paul (15/01/20)
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A poem inspired by Presence open mic nite.
A place that gifts me 10 mins a week to
perform my poetry to an audience.
10 of my most appreciated minutes per week.
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