In a waning light
a painting from a faded memory .
I burned from despair and
failure of imagination.
wondering when the sun
went down on me .
a barren field ,
a leafless forest
climbing a lawless ladder .
in my eye a rose burns .
perculating just below the
surface ready to blow
the sound of a Lyre .
Taking a a glimpse into the
shadows of self doubt
and indecision .
that creek of purest sorrow
smelling of musky soil or semen .
dank dark wine
bites my tongue
I taste the mask
of fury carved in stone.
A dead fall
felled in a time
not of this age
covered in lichen ,
insects and vines .
do we
must we
hold every moment
sacred ?
-
Author:
WL (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 21st, 2017 10:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 86
- Users favorite of this poem: myself and me, Fay Slimm.
Offline)
Comments7
What a beautiful painting! A wonderful poem and along with Santita, I too am left pondering the final line. Great work!
Super art work and a super poem to go with it - great work Bill
Oh - these words paint a fantastic scene of sad nostalgia burned into readers' minds with superb imagery . That final question rousing fresh interest re. what we hold sacred gives a stunning end Bill and what a wonderful painting too. A favourite with me without a doubt.
Re: Stunning "Sacred creek"
A withered leaf
from no where
Fall in the sacred creek
Cause endless ripple of melancholy
Burning rose
Turn the creek into sea of fire
Wonderful write together with a superb painting.
Like the others, I was drawn into your poem right to the last and rather unexpected lines that stopped me and made me think. Do we?
A great poem indeed enjoyed your imagery in this piece a pleasure to read your work ,,,,cheers
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