Mist dances across the marsh
like phantoms born on memories
that neither mind nor hand can hold.
These brumous specters flee
when a pallid sun climbs to the noon,
but in defiance they return
to seek the sacred shroud of night,
and play havoc with our fantasy.
A contest entry
- Write me a poem about FOG! by poetrandy.
700 points, ended December 1, 2008, 18 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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I really enjoyed reading this poem.
Love the line.."to seek the sacred shroud of night"
A great write, congratulations on the HM.
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awesome
images from mists of time
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Great imagery Di
Moors I suspect.
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Wow. A simple thing such as fog and you have created a masterpiece full of imagery and sensation. I'm so impressed.
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These dreams come on infiltrating my nights,every second I live another life.Just a line you inspired me to recall from a song. Psychologist tell us dreams are a pressure valve to deal with all our awaken hours madness. Yet you've woven a tempest mist of natures fog along these half forgotten paths beyond midnight's streams.
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Di this is amazing. I am still struggling with time to read here as work has been so hectic. But it's wonderful when I get a moment and read such amazing work. As usual you shine girlfriend !
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Very good!
Interesting poem! Good luck in the contest!
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