Brutalist Touch by Francis Conlon

Francis Conlon | March 4th, 2025 | poetry | No Comments

Poem

A brutalist touch on the winding staircase,
Highlighted by the chandelier’s glare,
The light beam descends into darkening space,
A traveler must be aware.

The steps descend all the way down,
As if this were good architecture.
At bottom might be a ghost town,
In dim light is the fullness of conjecture.

The silence, faint humming is so eerie,
No rhythm here to hint of joy.
Moist drippings on walls, a feeling dreary,
An atmosphere of some nefarious ploy.

A gentle light, an illuminating grace,
I’ll take the exit to green meadow’s land,
With the friendly zephyr to warm my face,
A smile has room to expand.

Poet Bio

Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Click to rate this post!
[Total: 0 Average: 0]
(Visited 45 times, 1 visits today)