the wind speaks
I hear the wind—it speaks,
not me
not me
as footsteps fade in floating dust,
it bends the trees, it shakes the sea,
then vanishes like thoughts once held.
As footsteps fade in floating dust,
the past dissolves beyond my reach,
a fleeting voice beyond my hands,
its echo shifting, never still.
The past dissolves beyond my reach,
it lingers only in the hush,
I hear the wind—it speaks, not me,
then leads me on without a trace.
It lingers only in the hush,
then vanishes like thoughts once held,
its echo shifting, never still,
I hear the wind—it speaks, not me.
it bends the trees, it shakes the sea,
then vanishes like thoughts once held.
As footsteps fade in floating dust,
the past dissolves beyond my reach,
a fleeting voice beyond my hands,
its echo shifting, never still.
The past dissolves beyond my reach,
it lingers only in the hush,
I hear the wind—it speaks, not me,
then leads me on without a trace.
It lingers only in the hush,
then vanishes like thoughts once held,
its echo shifting, never still,
I hear the wind—it speaks, not me.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 4th, 2025 03:09
- Comment from author about the poem: A pantoum, characterized by repeating lines and interwoven rhyme and rhythm. Each stanza connects the past and present through echoed phrases, creating a cyclical and meditative structure.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments8
nice write
Thank you so much🕊️🙏🏻
welcome
I do not know what this form is called but it's rotating repetition in this poem is haunting and most effective. A fave
A pantoum, which sounds a bit strange to the ear, no less. Thanks Soren🙏🏻🕊
There is a sense here of the power of communing and communicating with nature.The wind in particular.For me there seems a deep desire to find meaning beyond what we see in the mirror. The past is not able to supply meaning but the present has the Wind and it speaks. A wonderful existential journey..I really enjoyed reading
You got something there and I feel it’s worth developing further! Noice 🕊️🙏🏻
A complex and enjoyable read
Thanks PL🙏🏻🕊️
You are very welcome
We are led by the wind, carried by the wind, swept off our feet by the wind, forced into others' lives by the wind, and in the end we are Gone With The Wind. For how long will our poems remain here ? Will they too not be gone some day ?... Thus, what will remain ? Bodies are turned to ashes in cremations, buried ones turn to dust, even bones. So, what remains ? Literary creations remain, for one thing. "A book is the only immortality." From : Sam Phillips : “3000 Proverbs.” New Delhi : Goodwill Publishing House, c 2017. Full acknowledgements are made here to the author/s, publishers and rights-holders. ---Soman Ragavan.
A delectable response my friend… most decidedly so. Thank you🙏🏻🕊
Your poem flows like the wind itself—ethereal and haunting. The repetition weaves a hypnotic rhythm, mirroring the fleeting nature of memory and time. Beautifully melancholic and deeply resonant.
Great write
Fine words arqios.
Andy
https://youtu.be/ByqYEzugleE?si=8M0KGNd3frOP9kM-
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