dust swirls on this barren place
as her skin cracks with fever
clouds in the distance rumble
tumbling are the weeds of greed
the season of the sun scorches on
stones lie in the bed of death
opening their divining hands
to her great gate in the sky
the trickling mist teases the seed
stretching its tongue for a taste
of living...
of life
as the storm passes over
mother's milk has soured
A contest entry
- The Desert by Danna Hobart.
300 points, ended August 24, 2007, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
-
The imagery in this reads almost like a prophesy, a frightening one. Very powerful. Thanks for entering.
-
very nice
This is close to my vision of the desert also. You penned a wonderful poem here, filled with magical imagery.
-
Personally, I love when a poem can make an underlying statement of an issue, Muddy, and the issue of environment and our destructions of earth are so well expressed in the metaphor of this poem...
Beautifully written, and best wishes to you in this next round of the contest!
Jo
-
Loved This!
The in-line rhyming is brilliantly placed. The visuals are fantastic. The message urgent, and much needed. An excellent metaphorical writ my dear friend.
"the trickling mist teases the seed
stretching its tongue for a taste"
Outstanding!
I wish you the very best in this round.
Much Love ♥
Renee
-
Excellent
Wonderful piece, loved the form and flow. I loved this piece, the thoughts held so much truth. Great write!
Bunny
Adding your comment:
1 - 7 of 7
