The Autumn wind whispers,
Bitter tales of century’s past.
Vintage verse is spoken,
Articulated by chattering leaves.
Soft rustles tell their story,
Immortal voice...chills the air.
Aged branches brush together,
Subtle conversations from beyond.
Their timeless speech is present,
Given voice by the elements,
If we choose to listen,
In their plot of rest.
A contest entry
- Samhain/Hallow's Eve Contest by WaterChild Reborn.
1500 points, ended November 1, 6 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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It is rare that a poem makes me "hear" more than visualize, but you have created such a piece here and I'm duly impressed. Beautifully done!
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Beautiful imagery combines with wisdom in this lovely poem. I enjoyed reading it very much esp. these lines: Their timeless speech is present,
Given voice by the elements,
If we choose to listen,
In their plot of rest.
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Imagery that swirls ...
"if we choose to listen" to voices unending ... that passed their test! j
y
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I like the idea of the leaves chattering and rustling in conversation over the graves like the souls of the dead in communion.
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