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About the Poem

There are very few people in this world whom I can honestly say that I would not mind being with every single day. My wife Kristy, My cat, Pandora (yes, she is a person), and a select few poets.

Silently Stealing Away

I slid anxiously into the darkest,
most tender hours.
Alone amidst the subtle ghosts,
my imagination at play.

Voices of immortal bards consoling me,
chattering on, crooning into the deepest hours of my contentment;
Dickinson, Blake, Morrison, Angelou.
Whitman - sounding his barbaric yawp...
Longfellow - lending to the rhyme of the poet...
Brandy tongued, I whisper them to myself,

Washing away the heavy yoke of living,
the burdens of challenge -
Seeing life thru the eyes of Milton.

For a few solitary hours I am lifted into an ivory tower,
a sanctuary, with walls of snowy white prose.

Now dawn comes... and with him he brings duty.
Rest, repair, restore myself for trials to come.
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© 1999 Mike Van Rensselaer Please respect the rights of the author and Passions in Poetry. If you would like to use this poem on your own web page, please contact the Author. Thank you.
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