A form of looking
Were you to know me, as I have known myself,
to watch the night moon fall heavily alongside
the river, let the current take you anywhere, as
my heart has led me by a tattered string. you
have not found me. why are you looking for
a part of me in old churches, the dust books,
the lined stores and poor lit basements. I am
no longer there, but look for me at night-
time when the windows are curtains to the soul
and there is firelight where all the lamps are burning.
look for me in quiet morning, when the eyes,
just waking from sleep, see only a portion
of my sins. I will not be where you have looked before,
not in the doldrums, not in the cold bed I rose from
this morning, not in the whiskey, rum, or beer.
I am not there, though I have been many nights.
It is a road, old cobblestone, a smooth blacktop
night running helter skelter into a blue morning.
to know me you must become a part of me.
the moon is down, the river's running mad again.
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Comments about this poem (A form of looking by Ben Paynter )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- "Hope" is the thing with feathers, Emily Dickinson
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne