When death fell
Like Autumn leaves
Windswept cruel
From swaying trees
I painted a picture
Made up of words
Treasured hidden
Away from cares.
As Winter came
The leaves now gone
The cold hard ground
Which had become
A landscape deep
Etched in mind
Those very same words
Reached for and found.
As Spring arrived
Its coloured hand
Swept in new life
Upon the land
Now I see
The death was mine
The picture painted
Words in rhyme.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: April 23rd, 2026 01:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
Good write N. Did you paint that picture at the bus stop?! lol.
I saw my death there , been waiting that long lol
lol
A wonderful poem of writing and creation. Nicely written
most kind, thanks and appreciation
You are most welcome
Another favourite, Norman. I will visit the gallery in summertime, the aircon will help appreciate the beauty of the art. 🙏🕊️
most kind, thanks always much appreciated
Well written. Your poem explores the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth, particularly through the seasons.
thanking you, always much appreciated
Norman, I’ve felt that kind of internal shift before…where something ends inside you before you even name it. And then later, you see it clearly. This brought that feeling back. Strong piece. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
thanking you for reading, always much appreciated
Wonderful words Norman, but not yet.
Andy
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