in winter deserts waits the seed of growth
a succulent
so silent in its solemn bed
of sand and loss
fuzzed by time's drag
a gloss awaiting hands
to lift away
the cover of dried hope
of pebbled crust
a diamond patient to the cut
a millepede which leaves its path
to die
in dark despair of dust
may channel light into the night
and miller may find millet by sheer trust
in winter deserts waits the seed of streams
the soul
remembers rain's soft joy
crabs moving criss-cross over soil
and rivers murmur their wet dreams
myra
05.06.2006
Author notes
Written June 5th, 2006
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1 - 8 of 8
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Ah this is good. I've been reading these "my soul is void" poems and have finally found one I like. Well actually I've found a few, but...I like to sound dramatic.
Anyway...the seeds of hope are as surely buried in this poem as as the seeds are in your poem's desert. Conveying life in terms of things hidden that can come to life is a good one...the "void" poems speak too harshly of loss, not taking into account hope...and their rough hewn words seem like crude objects next to your more subtle style.
I'm not a poet but I know what I like and your style is polished, refined and well presented.
So let me get this right...you are saying this desert of mine could become a dense forest? I'll settle for a few sprigs of grass.
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i wish i could write like this. the first line is perfect, and the images paint a brilliant scene in my mind...you used your own creative style and it comes out original and a joy to read, thank you for sharing this here.
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Like the beautiful wildgflowers that grow in the desert, the seeds will lay dormant until it is time to bloom. Short, sweet, and beautiful. Your words are the seed of streams in this poem.
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I love the way you always combine such powerful words - never a word wasted - into such vivid literary photography. And in truth, so much of our life follows the very path you describe for us. May you often find the life giving water in your life.
Fantastic work, my friend. -
The power of your compassionate vision is amazing, like the ways of the Light that changes hate into Love, darkness into Light and destruction into (re-)creation. The defeat of Love and Light is evident only to the blinded yes trapped in this illusion. Your eyes pierce beyond the conjurings of this fata morgana. It is a privilege to read of your visions, expressed in the eloquent fragility of eyes that have seen the Light. Thank you precious soul. Ack,
Chris
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It's fascinating to see the desert burst into life after a shower of rain. Those seeds of hope wait patiently for the rain to end thier thrist. I hope your words bear the fruits of victory in the contest.
Sincerely,
Leo Long -
thank you, myrataal, for your poem in this contest,
i will comment at closing
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the seed will remain - as soon as life giving rains come to freshen the spirit then new growth will skip into motion
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