As the spinning, rolling waves
of the shore's blue-green waters
weigh upon my shoulders,
I feel the need of a candle
to light my darkness
I look to the fountain
of spray flying up
through the air
each droplet whistles a tune
a different melody
their chord tremors
inside my imagination
The life given by one
of those precious spheres
blooms in my mind
it comes fast, hits me
like a bullet from a gun
jerks my mind
from quiet reverie
setting to work
my thoughts
letting loose
words, idle chat
arranged in such a way
as to form
a poem
Each droplet, a word
frothy white as milk
and as mild, if one
may say them alone
but all together
the voices swell
not for fun or sport
but because a foundation
must be built
for those yet coming
And at the core
of those resounding,
reverberating waves
of water and sound
grows a tree
a single tree
born not with a silver spoon
but budding with struggle
against the currents
contained within such power
O, the west, retreats the sun
the east, the dark moon rises
immortal green of leaves
transforms to gold
young and vibrant
to be gone tomorrow
it can't be kept even by nature
But soon, the mountains shall
release for a single moment
their mystic power
like silken hair
beauty, seeming fragile
luminescent in the moonbeams
The mountains
ever more
to relinquish their hold
on the mortal realm
with a final flow
of orange, burning hot,
the weary see blessed ending,
a juice to finally quench their thirst
but to the vital and alive,
this is disaster, an ending
And all is lost...
except...
over there, what
could have survived
such a lethal blow
but the tree,
still struggling,
but yet a tree
I tip my hat to this sapling
not willing to let go of
a belief, an idea,
a poem
of the shore's blue-green waters
weigh upon my shoulders,
I feel the need of a candle
to light my darkness
I look to the fountain
of spray flying up
through the air
each droplet whistles a tune
a different melody
their chord tremors
inside my imagination
The life given by one
of those precious spheres
blooms in my mind
it comes fast, hits me
like a bullet from a gun
jerks my mind
from quiet reverie
setting to work
my thoughts
letting loose
words, idle chat
arranged in such a way
as to form
a poem
Each droplet, a word
frothy white as milk
and as mild, if one
may say them alone
but all together
the voices swell
not for fun or sport
but because a foundation
must be built
for those yet coming
And at the core
of those resounding,
reverberating waves
of water and sound
grows a tree
a single tree
born not with a silver spoon
but budding with struggle
against the currents
contained within such power
O, the west, retreats the sun
the east, the dark moon rises
immortal green of leaves
transforms to gold
young and vibrant
to be gone tomorrow
it can't be kept even by nature
But soon, the mountains shall
release for a single moment
their mystic power
like silken hair
beauty, seeming fragile
luminescent in the moonbeams
The mountains
ever more
to relinquish their hold
on the mortal realm
with a final flow
of orange, burning hot,
the weary see blessed ending,
a juice to finally quench their thirst
but to the vital and alive,
this is disaster, an ending
And all is lost...
except...
over there, what
could have survived
such a lethal blow
but the tree,
still struggling,
but yet a tree
I tip my hat to this sapling
not willing to let go of
a belief, an idea,
a poem
Author notes
an abstract.... enjoy! I couldn't really think of a title so... it's about a tree, and a poem... so I was thinking poetry... so "-try" is like "tree" so POE-TREE(try) maybe... I might change it.
Written February 17th, 2005
A contest entry
- YOUR BEST WORK...sad, dark, or abuse whatever you think is your best poem! by Jennifer Petersen.
300 points, ended November 29, 2005, 18 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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That was the very poem by Frost I was referring to!
-
thank you for the comment! I have to admit, I was pretty proud of the name when I came up with it, but it can be confusing. I'm glad you liked my piece, and I hope you get what you're lookin for in the contest!
God bless!
~Faile~ -
I think you are the only one who picked up on the Robert Frost "imitation" thing. I was reading a collection of his poems and "Nothing Gold Can Stay" caught my attention. I love his work! And thank you also for the title idea. I'll keep it in the running!
God bless!
~Faile -
dont you dare change that title! i really liked it , the title expresses the entire poem, and gives it a large visual, and poetry is really hard to express, well in writting, and i dont know anyone that can do it better. you did a wonderful job, im very proud of your work, and thanks for entering my contest, goodluck! Jen
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I thought inspiration. It seemed to be a poem about things that inspire a poem. Or at least things I think inspire poetry, lol. Nice work. Great lines, and a segment that reminded me of one of my favorite Robert Frost poems.
P.S. The Lady of Shallot does rock, doesn't it? -
Thank you! This is one of those poems that I wrote within a few minutes. It just flowed and I know God gave me the words. Again, thank you for the comment!
God bless.
~Faile~ -
This was an amazing write. Very powerful and versatile, but it all seems to be connected. Wonderful work.
A true pleasure to read.
S♠m
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Thank you, thank you, thank you! I had so much fun writing this piece... however, i must say, the word juice was the hardest to fit
but it was so much fun! i hope you have another contest like this one in the future! I would SO enter if u did! I was wondering... maybe you should answer this after the contest, but do u like the title? ... I fear i'm less than even adequate at naming poems. afterwards, if u have any suggestions, feel free to blurt them out! Thanks again!
God bless.
~Faile~ -
All 30 words are counted for in this beautiful write of yours. It’s absolutely amazing, the way you incorporated the words I gave you was awesome, but this piece would have been beautiful even without them. I really am speechless as to what else to say because sometime when I get rapt in a write, words can’t describe what nice things I want to say. Keep up the good work, and thanks for the entry. Good Luck, you’re real shoe-in--Ann
1 - 9 of 9




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