The howling of owls,
The glistening of stars,
The swishing of trees.
The frosting of snow,
All clear with low sounds,
To cool the air with scares,
To the hearts of men and women.
That feel they did nothing,
except their last sin.
Cause that's what happened,
When a traveller was found in the woods,
To provide the beautiful death of nature.
Oh why does death torture us?
Till our amazing lively days.
Author notes
What i am trying to say is that there is a man walking in the woods and he died when he lay down to gaze and hear the things...
A contest entry
- Many Layers of Pain by CarolDesjarlais.
525 points, ended December 28, 2006, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I thought this was pretty good. I also thought, though, that you could have made it more elaborate, used more imagery. I couldn't feel any pain at all, if anything. It's worded pretty good, but it's almost as if it's just there.
Jeanette*~ -
Nice
I felt that I was there, through your poem-feeling the sounds of nature during the cool, changing autumn or winter months. What really struck me was the end, when one is left with the question why we take life and death so seriously when they are just the natural, beautiful cycle of things. There was a sense of cyclic wonder in your poem, expressed through the changing seasons, the flow of nature, and life and death...all necessary and connecting components of each other and their seeming opposites. This was my interpretation, (or projection), anyway.
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Very unusual poem you have penned here - what a sad ending - after one listens and hears all these things in nature, then he dies? Must have been by natural causes. Thanks for commenting on my poetry earlier today.
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Oh my, I caught an image with this poem...not a happy one, as is often with such writes...you almost got the plot you were working towards but perhaps show me more....
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