A MOMENT IN SEPTEMBER
Leaves fall in the moonlight,
as a solitary girl strolls
down the darkening street.
Leaves blow like rose petals
before her hurrying feet.
The leaves will fall
throughout the night,
as the moon becomes like glass.
It reveals nothing,
and that girl is soon gone,
like last summer’s leaves.
She’s left me with a memory
of other things that pass,
but that will also not last.
A POEM WITH NO FOCUS
Tonight, the moon appears
as if it had worries
that were almost too much
for it to bear.
I’ve been there,
and beyond that moon,
there’s only emptiness.
I feel lost in this universe,
with nothing to steer by.
I see a distant star
shining above my head.
It seems courageous,
but it’s probably long dead.
What goes on in the sky?
It’s alive with sounds,
which I can’t hear.
They drift through
the lonely cosmos,
and will never come near.
WRITTEN DURING AN ECLIPSE
The day has no face,
as it dies anonymously.
It reflects my feelings,
without emotion or grace,
leaving darkness in its place.
Clouds drift like dead sailors
in that merciless sky.
They look at nothing
when they pass me by.
That relentless sky
is a lonely place
even for a star to die.
I talk to myself as someone apart.
I think of many words,
but they all seem absurd.
Like other men and women,
I sit in the dark.
My soul is buried in ashes,
as if it were somehow
simply waiting
for my real life to start.
George Freek’s poetry has recently appeared in The Ottawa Arts Review, Acumen, The Lake, The Whimsical Poet, Triggerfish and Torrid Literature.
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