Here is December placing out
these wilted flowers
on the porch
that I first took for evening. Starvation lead me
to that porch, to find it left to rot but for the lamps long
put out, the flower I was unable to name
after seasons' ill and poison,
the wind that rang in
haze in only hinted andante.
The door was locked; both of us waited
at the porchsteps, counting*
every star arrive; it, if not for me,
for returning
owners or the wind to drag it
back across the pastures. Bitter days
would follow, landscape
ii.
like an elixir
badly brewed. I lived on
milk and kilner jars knocked into bushes.
No owner came. All the things
that did, did
also go; the foxes to mate, the moon
framed by this garden's tire swing,
the Milky Way that dimmed
each cold night's cricket concerto.
When not even the wind
returned with clouds, not even
for the haze, the violin's
tune left in a cold dark afternoon,
I packed my bag with milk jugs and jam
and, after farewells to the haze, after
all my secrets were hinted andante,
after one-way conversations,
shared intents, I trudged on, past urns,
facing the pasture, past turns.
Comments
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I can't completely say that I understood this, but I love how easily it flowed from one line to the next. The words you used to inspire imagery were also excellent ^-^. The final three lines were beautiful. It made me kind of sad, the poem did. Describing how things were fading away...
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Welcome to Allpoetry! This is absolutely beautiful, filled with non-cliche' metaphores...my favorite being, "the moon framed by this gardens tire swing, the Milky Way that dimmed each nights cricket conceto" I also like the subtle rhyme that's sporadic throughout, perhaps unintentional, however it works well. I know that you will do well here on this site and learn much to enhance your creative writing.
Blessings,
Sassy
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