Do not tremble, do not tremble little flower,
I won’t pick you from this garden.
You are now just a blossom
I am an addicted wanderer
Ahead I see a path of stones
beneath a crimson horizon
behind a tree with many branches,
One gold fruit that never wanes.
I found ashes in a wooden plate
that tasted like the elysian nectar.
I rejoiced even when a breeze
scattered together fortune and ill fate.
I have the sovereignty of the old craft,
When flying I outrun the clouds
clutching them with my bare hands
building castles without any heft.
I pick now my walking stick
and I greet you with my old hat.
The next reunion will be among strangers
and this spring with be just an old trick.
A contest entry
- Moving on with poetryality - Invited only!!! by Mari Goes.
1400 points, ended October 25, 2007, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Thank you so very much for this kind and wise words. You have touched my spirit with the mystery of the ancients. There is a splendid feel to this poetry. I am smitten with delight. Thank you ever so much poet. I almost feel like my ancestors have come back to urge me on. Beautiful! Thank you!
Much Love ♥
Renee
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Oh man from Minas Gerais, your message is very positive, colourful and up lifting.
To see beauty and hope where we least expect is wonderful treat.
this is a great poem and I the last stanza closes it with with a golden key.
Obrigada por ter vindo
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