Careening clouds catch condensation
careful to clutch them close,
like children clinging to cotton comfort
of mothers clothes.
Those fearful floods of fountain tears
forlorn in freefall, face uncertainty.
Failure of fortitude fading
as freedom faintly calls,
how haunting the hollow rush
of howling speed hangs,
half horrified how hills grow huge;
hallowed halls of home.
Quickening now, quadratic quotations
quell quaint quivering,
as like quiver-less arrows they sprawl,
their quittance still to pay.
Rigid resolve rallies, radically rekindling
objective to ram themselves,
roaring into the rivers reality where
nothing but ripples remain.
Author notes
Words Used;
Careen(ing)
Careful
Fortitude
Fountain
Haunting
Horrify (Horrified)
Quaint
Quickening
Rigid
Ripple
A contest entry
- Word Bank Anyone? by Pamela A Lamppa.
1750 points, ended November 6, 2008, 15 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Honest Critique Requested
Comments
-
As an avid canoe person, I loved the last lines.
"roaring into the rivers" gives an exquisite image.
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What can I say except excellent. When alliteration is handled like this, I quiver in the quaint quell of quaking aspens.
Bravo Poet for an amazing entry. My hat's off to you.
Brilliant. ~Pamela
-
Very finely crafted.
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