Rage
To Dylan Thomas
By Tatiana Pahlen
The
sad day has settled down
Shutting
its tired lids.
Twilight lurks without sound
Weaving the stars with beads.
Sudden
explosions of fallen comets
Cut
the sky tracing flesh and blood
Filling
void with brush and palette,
Swiping
sweat on the blank.
Then
page, after page . . .
The
last tear from the candle
Was
whipped by the rising light,
Soothing
rage against the nightfall ramble
Stamped
on my pallid face.
I'm not going gentle into that good night!
January
22, 1995
© 2001 Tatianyc. All Rights Reserved.