Silent are the bellkeepers
who look down on the land.
Knights that kneel in reverence
bloodlet into sand.
Empty are the inkwells of
each poet, scribe, and mage;
Motionless is every string,
as each lute goes unplayed.
Pious are the godless now,
and petty is the priest;
But still we light a candle.
Pray before a feast.

Endlessness in memory,
A breath held for a thief;
Seasons are always stealing,
the color from our leaf.
Adorn your purple livery,
soak every fur in tears;
No winter can take from us
The love of warmer years.

  • Author: Quemis (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 20th, 2021 23:36
  • Comment from author about the poem: Times are rough lately.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 28
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, jarcher54.


  • L. B. Mek

    'Endlessness in memory,
    A breath held for a thief;
    Seasons are always stealing,
    the color from our leaf.'
    love these lines
    a great write!
    thanks for sharing, dear Poet
    (Adomania, in a blink
    Kairosclerosis, in a heartbeat
    we scrape, all we can
    from that bottomless barrel
    we call a life
    and then, it gets tipped over
    so get to start, all over again)
    luckily, we just title it
    a New Year
    so we can get sht faced
    and 'cheers', all night long...

    • Quemis

      True that. I tried to write this for my friend whose mom is on her deathbed today. I didn't want to be too direct, but I hope she sees it on facebook, and knows.

      Hard to come up with words in a normal fashion for such a tragedy. Been going around lately. Lets hope next year is better. : /

      • L. B. Mek

        I'm so sorry, what a harrowing memory
        to carry with you, every time
        the festive season comes around.
        Hope your friend's mom
        is in, as little pain as possible.
        Stay strong, dear poet
        'this too, shall pass'

      • jarcher54

        You have such poignant, vivid images, always musical and inventive, traditional but new! Seasons stealing the colors, inkwells gone dry. Very sincere and sophisticated. You naturally use all the poet's tools, like you don't even know it it is so natural. Image, rhythm, anaphora, rhyme, simplicity, theme, vocabulary, you name it. This is a treasure.

        • Quemis

          Thank you, thank you, thank you. As always, so sweet.

          : )

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