Gold

Now that the sun has caressed roots of my trees

Will thy flowered palms fall upon soil unearthed?

Thy fields have withered in the fruit of spring-

The seed which spread for thee alone 

Lies decaying in thine eyes of gold!

But spring does not belong in a tomb

When with fruits of her countenance the blossoms flourish,

Of the land which livens on her curling tresses

And rosebud cheeks beneath her crown of gold! 

Stand in the comfort of her leafy tendrils’ shade 

Lest the new borns’ cry keeps thee awake; 

Though thy secrets require no cradle nor soft words of mine,

Thine infantile seeds will soon be crying 

For nourishment before the season of gold!    

Author's Note

Sorry, had to get some old fashioned poetry out of my system. I promise I'm working on a more modern piece! Even still, tell me what you think.

Reviews

[Clockwork]

The sun seems to be a become which proves a hidden truth to a lover. I think it stands as a call for him to come and tend the "soil unearthed" which is the bounty that can be offered, which can grow, for she is the earth and he the sky.

I think that plea for growth and nourishment is intensified with the idea that the cornucopia of the land, the very fruits of the woman, are decaying in their places. And furthermore, the man can see this in his eyes, which are the color or supreme decadence.

On another note, I liked how you used the idea and image of gold. I think in the first stanza it is more of a physical representation of the earthly element and the quality of the male figure. However, I think that it has more of a metaphoric quality in the second stanza. It shows the royalty of spring, and helps to proclaim that she should not be entombed. In the final stanza, I think that it reenforces that growth is necessary, and even if the person the poem is directed at does not head the call, nature will cry for growth.

[Lily Mae]

You've done a terrific job with your old fashion writes.. I've loved them..xo This brings forth hope and belief in new..excellent write..xx

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Don't be sorry, nothing wrong with old fashion, especially the way you write it... such a wondrous poem capturing the essence of spring, which is the season of new life. I love it.