Sunday

follow me

I heard a voice, a soft voice
Follow me it said
Suddenly from the gloom
A girl appeared
What do you want? I said
Follow and you will see she said
I said I don’t want to
She said You must


She ran down a dark street
Occasional streaks of light
Revealed her tear stained face
Hurry, please, she said
Faster and faster she went

I can’t keep up I said
Hurry she said
I’m losing you I said
Then she disappeared

Where are you? I called
It’s too late she cried
What did you want? I asked
It’s too late she sobbed

I guess I’ll never know

let me read it to you

3 comments:

Jeques said...

Hi Keith,

I read and listened to the french version and since I don't know french I clicked the button that lead me here. French is one of the languages I want and promised myself to learn before I die, maybe when I'm older. I'm always intrigued of the place and their language. Please note that the neck name I gave myself, JEQUES, was inspired and spelled in french. My real name is Jesus, and my neckname in the Philippines was used to be spelled as Jecks. But in college, I changed it the way it is now when I got interested of Paris, France.

I love this poem, a poetic vignette like a scene from a theatrical play. It has the elements of a classic piece. I could imagine this performed in the stage with the lights and the sounds.

I wish you well.

~ Jeques

Missy said...

what he said above, but I am adding a bravo. Still makes me tingle listening to the mystery of it all.

Anonymous said...

Kieth,

I really enjoyed listening to your poems. I think it is brilliant that you have a recording of the reading, as poetry was never meant to be read in silence, just as lyrics to a ballad...poetry is meant to be heard. Just as the ballad of Beowulf, this form of art brings its level of intensity and awe up to fantastic levels when the music of the words can be listened to.

I do thank you for visiting my site and leaving your comment, for if you hadn't I may never have found your poetry. And in this crazy, fast paced and stressful world, a girl could use a little poetry to relax by as she sips her tea.