Memories have climbed
high up in the tree of life.
They live procreate hibernate rarely die.
I call them for a feast of grain
entertain them, precious gems,
from morning nightingales
to summery swallows.
I call them to hear joyful songs
but the raven has come to spoil the play,
with his awkward voice and repulsive body,
too big for the little nests
high up in the tree of life,
now coloured feathered memories
have flown away terrified
by the darkness of its lonely song.
A contest entry
- A metaphorical message to the missing by Dienush.
750 points, ended February 19, 2007, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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ahhhhh what a wonderful piece you have created here!!!
Such a unique approach you have taken on this contest, wonderful!!!!
Good luck in the contest
Tracey!!!!111
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Oh this is jurt truly wonderful my friend. Your imagery of the raven and bad news disturbing those deep, happy memories is fabulous
My best to you in this contest.
Gaylene
s
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wow, a very strong image you have penned here of the raven, harbinger of death and bad news, disturbing memories of youthful happiness and color.
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I love the symbolism in this poem. It isn't hard to understand but it is very beautiful and full of imagery and emotion. Thanks for entering my contest.
~Diana -
a good piece, sad imagery, life is in constant feathered motion. good luck in the contest. spill ink and twist me into the crazy shape of love...
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