Unsung.
Each season bequeaths measured remembrance as landscape
slides from sleep to resurgence.
Winter's kiss does not leave the white throat of rooted fingers
death-locked beneath frozen earth.
Spring never neglects to coat earth with flowered embraces of
paler courtship's poppy touches.
Summer's fierce arms heat to a crisp with frenetic passion for
blitzing neglect of grave-marked hush.
Autumn's relief calms as colourful carpets spread with leaf-fall
bidding the brave to rest again.
Former lost unions bestow no relief until love discloses diverse
seasons of unsung vibrations.
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Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: November 8th, 2020 09:09
- Comment from author about the poem: In humble remembrance of those left behind in foreign fields.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments8
Nature does her beautiful fine costumery over grounds once swept with deathly menace and scarred with death. Over tended green landscaped graves where young eyes never reached the maturity of seeing her for her timeless comfort and wisdom.
Ours, it falls to us to tell of war's aftermath. Of land now healed and humanity forever inflicting scars upon itself.
Appreciate your different take on the passing of time seemingly making ridicule of man's efforts to war.
A fine write Fay.
.. a most poignant and fitting requiem ..
sadly, such a pleasure to read ..
Neville
Enjoyed the read.
What to say? You know it's good without any endorsement from me, Fay. You can already discern my feelings re that Great conflict (and the rest).
Did it for me.
Regards Dave
Wonderful words of remembrance Fay. The seasons do honour those who have passed.
Andy
'Autumn's relief calms as colourful carpets spread with leaf-fall
bidding the brave to rest again.'
truly Fay, your signature style, somehow - without fail, infuses a deft cadence to accompany your words as they resonate within our mind, it's an absolute joy to read your works and glean a little more of Nature's wonder in those subtle breezes of serenity between your stanzas
"When will they ever learn?" See, this reminded me of Pete Seeger's "Where Have All The Flowers Gone?" Your seasonal interpretation of war's folly and the aftermath of fallen souls and fields that yield to Nature, reminds us all to never forget the useless horror of war. We must constantly remind ourselves of the brutal cost of such actions .those that gave the greatest sacrifice must also be remembered as the heroes that they were . Yet we, the living, must never let it happen again. Fay, a stirring piece of poetry. - Phil A.
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