Metaphors and similes in the pale moonlight
As there she sat that soft August night
Morning dew and rainclouds came overhead
Singing as she sat, the songs of the dead
Over the hills in a faraway land
Sits an old woman weaving soft cloth by hand
In her eyes a youngngirl sings
And in her heart, she soars on open wings
How long must we wait before we know?
How long must we wait for trouble to show?
Known like the dust of our ancestor's tombs
From the very depths of our own mothers' wombs
Listen to the nightbirds sing their lullaby
Listen to the roars of rockets soaring high
Listen as she sings her mournful song
Listen as she sings, it's where we belong
Author notes
I really don't know what this poem is about... It came to me a while back. I also apologize to everyone for not being present for the last 3 weeks, I was away in the west of Ireland learning to speak Irish. And we were, let's say, technologically deprived . Anyway's, tell me what you think of this poem. It's more a song than a poem, really, I have a sort of rhyme in my head that it goes to but I find it difficult to put into words.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I do love this...a chant of the ages. I see long ago and present times as well. I must say that I envy your stay in west Ireland...I dream of Ireland always. I want to learn the Celtic dialect, yet my time is so limited these days.It is nice to have you back and writing here with us. I have a contest running right now if you have a desire to do contests..."Which Witch" it is called. Brightest Blessings to you Liam!
Azlyn
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