there is still life
in the withered appendages of trees,
breathless leaves
holding against the gusts of fall.
it's the movement that kills them;
the wind tears loose
a fragile grip on growth.
fruit bats and splintered branches
are makeshift vultures,
circling the contracting world-
spinning things closer to themselves.
death never claimed
to do the work of missionaries,
spreading news
farther than its horizons.
death never claimed
to create stock of worthless lives;
it makes concentrate.
like the cold closing of fissures
along modern tracks of infrastructure
(the rails and roads of the human body),
there is a silent revision
in the stitching together of history
until another living thing
bursts forward, proclaiming
"our voices are older than our tongues."
...then it will be spring again.
A contest entry
- so real by alaska..
2600 points, ended November 25, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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this has a sort of religious tone to it, surprisingly, I didn't mind it that much.
this is wonderfully written though I think you should have ended here
""our voices are older than our tongues.""
the line you chose to be your last didn't seem to pack the same punch that that did.
thank you for entering and good luck.
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Different than I am used to reading from you...
but then again I have been remiss in reading.
Excellent piece.
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, I loved this!
Autumn and spring always seem to inspire so many writers... there is just so much to be said about them, and so many ways they can be used as metaphors. But this, this was something totally different from the ones I am used to reading... I loved the story told here.
There is always a very refreshing poetic tone in your poetry...
You had me from the first couple lines.
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i don't know if it was your intention, but this came across like it had some sort of religious overtone. it was nicely written, regardless.
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This is a really remarkable write full of imagery so real....tat its as if i have hung a painting above my mantle piece....nice write my friend
T
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excellent!
wow, this is really, really something great.
...a
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'death never claimed
to do the work of missionaries'
and the ending.
mmm. I really love your work. it's always got this richness to it.
this'll get a trophy for sure.
at least, it should.
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Autumn and spring. Poetic fodder, although summer and winter get me some too.
This is perfect today for reasons i won't share here.
And I had to smile at the missionaries for i did have a mission in my last poem.
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wow... nicely wrapped up in the ending. This whole peice is strong but :
death never claimed
to do the work of missionaries
absolutely stunning lines there.
So well expressed and fluid.
One little note "its the movement that kills them;
just thought you might have over looked making "its" possesive!
( I know I hate it when I miss little stuff like that so thought I'd point it out
)
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i have a personal vendetta against apostrophes. it was intentionally left out, but not for any particularly meaningful reason. hahaha.
*begrudgingly fixes*
glad you enjoyed.
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i honestly think... this is the best poem you have written so far... i really do. i wish i could show this to the world hey you dotted the last line. impressive.
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