Weeping Willow

A meloncholy write..pure fantasy.

Weeping Willow

Straining to catch sunlight
the willow weeps

along the riverbank of longing
I no longer feel warm

my eyes see sorrow all around
the birds have ceased their twittering 

my days are closing in
the night beckoning with a moonless sky,

the stars blink back tears

lay me beneath the magnolia tree

where I shall see my beloved mountain

plant buttercups for my head
moss to rest my feet

in my hands place a lily

on my heart a rose ~

(c) Helen M Crutchett (All rights reserved)

Author's Note

Photo: Bing Images.com

Thank you for reading!

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

so melancholy yet there is a sense of serenity in the use of Nature .. i would lay me self down in such a place ... with the mountain in view .. soft moss and lillys ... but the rose on her heart is killer .. a pain, in reading .. i don't want to feel ;) so well done says i .. i enjoyed the mix of rhythms and taste of rhyme .. love the pic and weeping willows are always a plus in my book .. thanks for sharing Ms. Helena!
E.

[Desert Knave]

Wow. The imagery here is so beautiful and yet so sad. Nicely done. ~Jim

[willweb]

Sadly beautiful. This poem reads like a whisper. Very somber but bright in its essence.

[Coyote Poetry]

So beautiful dear Helena. I adore the weeping willow tree. I enjoyed the flow of thoughts and you allowed the reader to fall into your words. Thank you dear friend for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Norman 223]

The willows along the banks of the Murray, were gorgeous, but, sadly they are causing so much damage, that the water supply is beconing a problem. Could your poem be their epitaph?

[T.S. Ulmus]

There are a lot of teenage angsty death imagery poems floating around but not one of those hacks could produce "the stars blink back tears" or "moss to rest my feet". You paint with words.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the last stanza reminds me of what Ophelia said to Gertrude when she was singing the little song to her about her slain father."at his head the grass green tufts..we weep like the willow when we lose those we love...and we search for roses, for something to believe in again.
I love the allegory here...and this poem reminds me of the beautiful willow we had in our backyard in Lockport...Our neighbor gave us a stick from his tree...we planted it. His tree died, ours grew huge and up over his garage....he was none too happy.
j.