Yesenin
Respite, involuntary and gentle
circling one’s
collar, a touch barely felt, renewed.
Or, the other turns,
belying expression and the halted voice.
The recursive window, closing.
A final poem in blood.
And beyond the glass? The face behind
the indifferent mask
designs its own
smile, risking everything
as the chair’s leg tilts,
inertia become constriction,
the taut lapse begun.
* * *
A fascinating poet, Sergei Yesenin died nearly 90 years ago. You might check out his bio on wikipedia.
O at the Edges 
‘risking everything as the chair’s leg tilts’ : a wonderful image
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A little constricting, perhaps…
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We still don’t know, though. There are all kinds of assassination versions.
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I suppose we’ll never know for sure.
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So very interesting! And such a short life….
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Makes me appreciate my ordinary, some would say dull, life. 🙂
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Me too! We are lucky we can write so freely…
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I know! And to have the time to do so.
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Wonderfully penned. More ink to your pen Bob.
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Thank you, Ajibola.
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jesenin was a great poet…and one who could still make rhymes both musical and relevant. poets are not that ken on rhymes thesedays
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Yes, he was! I suppose readers have been exposed to too many amateurish rhymes. I love the way they work in the ghazal form.
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I love Yesenin. Possibly my favourite of that generation. There’s something forever rustic and pure (not that those two are causally related) in his poems that I love.
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He is special!
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