The
Sun scorched
Fields bear
Witness of sleep.
Forgotten, stagnant,
Crimson music oozes
Forth from the bowels of ruin.
Where the irrevocable song
Reverberates, the silence persists.
This is no war. This is execution.
Author notes
For you not so poetry intense individuals, this is called an etheree. A ten line poem, each line increasing in syllable length by one syllable. Now you know.
Written June 9th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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it took me about 20 minutes.
Thank you all for your comments. I'll start reading yours now. -
Good job...My favorite line was the that last one. Very final. Excellent piece. Question: how long did it take you to write it?
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this is a great poem...i thought it was called a "teretacy"
and it went from 1 to 10 back down to 1...but is that called a etheree because its only half of a teretacy and its totally differnt?
i wrote several long poems like that and yours is the first ive seen in that format!
great job once again...you should join my contest!
♥ Lynn
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Nice imagery and diction. Great Write.
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those who know etherees can tell right off the bat...like myself. As for the write itself, it holds a bit of metaphoric abstract to the mind thats now pre-existed/ing. good read
Rae -
This sounds like the end of the end at a post apocolyptic Earth. Everything so bareen and dismal. You painted a dark picture.
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Merci beaucoup.
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Whoa. Your poems are too good. Excellent word choice.
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