I walk through a desolate field
An aftermath of war
The wind blows ghostly
Against the bare, burnt trees
I creep quietly
Amidst the ashes
The dark night settles in
What happened here
I hear a voice, ancient
Breathing on the wind
This was brought by greed
By selfishness
Listen to me
I search for the voice
A single, solitary
Blue bird flies above
I wake up...
A contest entry
- handful of feathers by exalted.
1750 points, ended May 27, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What do you think?
Comments
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I like the image "the wind blows ghostly against the bare, burnt trees", it's nice. I see that the tone of your poem moves from dark to light at the very end, but I wish you would have written more, because I like where you were going with it. Next time you should develop a story, show the parts you're leaving out now, flesh it out! What you have right now is a collection of good images, it could be more though.
Thank you for the entry,
-cassidy
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