The nostalgic poet praises the forgotten forest;
tucked between sloped summits and sheltered by a hidden spring,
here, autumn waits patiently for winter.
Where a familiar groove is now half-buried by construction,
umbrella-sized leaves, still damp from last night's rain,
carry his muddy footprints with an echoing whisper.
He continues to mutter soft lullabies, and occasionally
his restless fingers will scratch scribbles over auburn coats,
while listening to the solo performance of a dying cicada.
Dreaming of singing stars dangling from heavy clouds,
harbinger of yet another storm, weeping willows sleep undisturbed,
despite the North wind's fury.
The poet pauses in his journey as he come across a bubbling creek,
where colors dot the transparent blue and a lone water lily
hints the arrival of tomorrow's snow.
He realizes his stanzas are too short, and his pastel crayons too rich
to paint the sunlight; gold flickers over wood and dust away
the meaningless ode of an empty promise.
[Land For Sale: 1000 Acres; Call Toll Free: 1800-DESTROY]
A contest entry
- brown by Salty Hibiscus.
482 points, ended October 27, 8 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Suggestions?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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stunning. loved how you run with the prompt of your chosen color. wonderful job.
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This is seven kinds of awesome.
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This is amazing hun, well done!
All the best,
mj.
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This is wonderful poetry and yet still very sad to read, somehow it reminds me of a sign I once saw between Kings and Hoover Damn
"Land for Sale - 7 Miles Frontage"
Now what are you buying 7 Miles frontage.. Jesus H. Christ, think of it a small country perhaps, yet you are lucky if you can sustain 4 heads of cattle in there.
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What a way to take on the prompt!!
A very different and unique write indeeed.
Wonderfully done buddy,
all the best to you in the contest.
Ken
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excellent
Such beautiful imagery in this poem you have posted
Enjoyed the entire poem but especially like this stanza
Dreaming of singing stars dangling from heavy clouds,
harbinger of yet another storm, weeping willows sleep undisturbed,
despite the North wind's fury.
Best of luck in the contest...a winner in my book
I just posted another one.......a dark one for a contest
Again best of luck sweet sis...........
Hugs
Your sis
Susan~~~
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