Depression weaves its basketry
like browning palms that gird the tree-
A lady stumbles to the shade
but dare she kneel to everglade-
prepare to meet the grave?
The horrors that are wrought are wrought for whom?
The coming face that faces coming doom.
A contest entry
- Falling backwards with Afflicted Memories by Wings of Insanity.
1800 points, ended May 4, 13 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Be published in the next Allpoetry Book! Theme: Grief by Kevin.
800 points, ended May 15, 111 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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beautiful, as is all of your poetry
I enjoy loose rhyming like this, and tend to enjoy trying to write like this myself.
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I understand some of what you feel within this. I lost my Father @ 16 and my mother @ 30. Sometimes it seems like forever ago, sometimes yesterday.
Peac
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It is a hard thing to loose a father. I lost mine two Christmases ago. If you like, I'll fetch what I wrote about it.
Be sure to tell your Mom she did a great job with your dad. Often. It may take some convincing... Survivor guilt is a strange thing. -
this reminds me so much of Poe. just the darkness of death, the fear of it. this was incredible.
this kid I knew in chicago died a little over a week ago. I know, another one.
xxx
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Oh no!
Not the best bedtime reading for me!
Now I'm going to be going to sleep with the grave on my mind...
Dark with good imagery & word choice. Nice flow, rhyme & timing! All the best.
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Well wrought, poet. Still, a bit less hopeful than I would have liked.
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shaded in the darkness of death's fear. well structured and played out with precision...
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Deep emotions are in this. A very good write.
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Very beautifully written. I like the way you let flow evenly, with a hint of sorrow. Well done.
You may become a finalists. -
This is so moving, so affecting, I feel I am them experiencing it all. It is incredibly sad.
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The deep-felt feelings of 'end of the road', and questioning from which answers will not be easy to find are present in this poem. The imagery moves the reader from 'un- reality' to 'reality', perhaps anology between life and death.
The first stanza entrapped me, forcing me to read further - a stunning imagery of depression [the truth is that none will know what this is unless experienced].
The second stanza provides yearning, with possibility of flight, but then, also depicts strength.
The third stanza is powerful, a force in the nakedness of questioning, and perhaps answer at the same time.
None can read this poem without confrontation of imagery contained in its title and words.
My blessings to you.
Frans
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Well, the shade of that tree gave me chills! My horror is that I'll wrought in my grave...
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