Upon the season’s sultry breeze
the lilac wastes her perfumed breath,
while sunlight streams through trembling trees
to light the land of midnight death.
Sad swallows sigh upon the wing,
with swift and song thrush singing soft;
the eagle, on his throne, as king
above the clouds soars safe aloft.
And I, a mortal, dare to dream,
although I’m quintessential clay;
beneath the sky, in vain, I scheme
to conjure one who went away.
I whisper, “Father, where are you
on this sad, soulless winter’s day?
Your bones are cold and steely blue;
does soul somewhere still pine away?”
And by his long-neglected grave
I stand, all statuesque, and stare,
as grief, a gracious God has gave
pours from my heart like pilgrim’s prayer.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 4th, 2021 12:30
- Comment from author about the poem: for my dad
- Category: Family
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments3
A sensitive write Kevin.
There you are - in your pic in the title! lol.
Thanks. I'm the one in colour, on the right. š
He will be waiting for you Kevin as mine is for me - but not yet!
Andy
'And I, a mortal, dare to dream,
although Iām quintessential clay;
beneath the sky, in vain, I scheme
to conjure one who went away.'
what an eloquent verse of poetry you've penned here, encapsulating your poems entire message with such crisp brevity,
Brilliant!
Happy New Year dear Poet
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