As the sun slowly slips into the cradle
of the mountain, it’s final rays
pierce the dark clouds rolling
overhead, illuminating them
with an inner glow.
The soft light spills over the mountains
and spreads to the valley below.
Bathing it with its final breath
before the silence of darkness
blankets the ground.
In the silence, a voice
desperately seeks to speak out.
A voice long ago heard
but now, nevermore.
A voice born of the soil,
the very Earth itself.
A primordial sound
once revered by multitudes.
Achingly for too many eons it has
lain smothered by the litter
of the forests, by the dust blown
by the wind, by the heavy
constructions of humanity.
Desperately it seeks to be heard
but ears, struck silent
by the incessant clamouring,
deafened by loud raucous
clatter emanating from
mechanical monsters,
fail to hear its sound.
The voice of the planet cries out
in vain. Few hear it, even fewer
listen, but cry out it does.
In a list
A contest entry
- My Birthday is coming! by eyesofgreen.
700 points, ended March 7, 2007, 4 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please be honest, whilst stroking my ego is nice it does not help me grow as a writer. If you have any constructive criticism or positive suggestions on how to improve my work please let me know.
Comments
-
Your verb usage is extraordinary, my deary dollface! Thank you for entering my contest. I was struck, then captivated by the way you layer your poem right through about the earth. GReat subject - i rarely see it much though.
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