Hear the sabre voices clash between children,
Watch the birth, the creation of dread,
Look closely at the glow about the fire,
Lost is the miracle of wonder,
It lies elsewhere.
Turn the log, it's warmth lies hidden,
Walk with care, beneath you lay the dead,
Souls that now form the silent choir,
Lie still and cause the mind to stir,
To imaginings in the air.
Living voices drift, the wind is calmed,
And the music dies away,
But the quiet, the silent is never harmed,
And lives again in every new day.
The rope that tightens around your neck in pain,
Will cause a grin as life is denied once again.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: April 11th, 2025 03:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments5
From quietude everything can awaken. I like this poem that tells a strong but also frail tale. This piece gives food for thought. In stead of analysing it I will just let the words wash over me.
Thank you so much for your comments.
A haunting poem David I loved several lines in this poem but my favorite was (Turn the log, it's warmth lies hidden,) such a wonderful metaphor. I think that the warmth of this poem lies hidden as well and I had to reread it to feel that wonderful fire. A fave
Thank you so much mi amigo
A wonderful write write with many meanings and wonderful lines, merits more than one read to absorb it all, enjoyed the read
Thank you for commenting
You are very welcome
That rope scene was quite effective there. A very gripping read 🙏🏻🕊
Thank you so much for commenting compadre
Excellent write David
Thank you mi amigo
You're welcome mi amigo
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.