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Jack Growden

Rookie - 204 Points (1997 / Townsville, Australia)

Early Mourning


The still of neap night
Withdraws another sip;
A stone cold bottle
Stings a quivering lip.
Sullen eyes stare ponderous
Through unwavering black -
Tonight the fox of reminiscence
Needs not its trademark knack.
As one’s drug-mortared walls crumble
When only streetlights flicker
Thus returns anguish and dismay
In this hour; never quicker.
For the bass still bellows
Though growing bitter and brittle,
As no fiddle tenors in reply -
No love, not even a little.
Hence though one dove may fly
While sunrise awaits its dawning,
Another’s sails have been lowered,
In this: an early mourning...

Submitted: Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, December 24, 2013

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Copyright Jack Growden (2013) . Thoughts?

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  • Rookie - 204 Points Jack Growden (1/6/2014 11:55:00 PM)

    Mike, again thanks for your keen interest in my work. There was no death or depression which inspired this poem in fact. Rather, it is a reflection on how lonely, horrible and melancholy 1-3am can be. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 474 Points Mike Barrett (12/30/2013 7:51:00 PM)

    Jack, I like this poem....its structure, its imagery and its play on mourning and morning. It leaves one feeling a certain melancholy and its not clear exactly why....was there a passing of an individual? Or of an element of the inner lower self? Little matter, it's a touching write and to me at least an 8. Cheers! (Report) Reply

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