Can You Hear

Can You Hear

 

 

Can you hear the soft whispers of the wind in the trees?

Or the soft stillness of the grass?

 

Can you hear the rustling of the soft rustling of leaves as they move down the street?

Or the stillness of nothing as they lay beneath your feet?

 

Can you hear the soft heart beat as you walk cross the path?

Or the stillness of nothing as you walked that forgotten path?

 

Can you hear the coldness as it surrounds you?

Or taste the fear of death that invites you?

 

Can hear and see the darkness that waits as it creeps long the path?

Or do you wait for it, hoping that it will pass you by?

 

Can you hear the silenced screams in the wind, the silent whispers?

Or is right behind you walking down the path?

 

I can for I am Death and hear you and wait as you turn around 

Nor do I wait for you to listen as I wait for you to scream.

 

 It is not the cold you feel but my fingers around you.

It is my footprints you can not hear as I stand behind you.

 

I hear your heart, it cries out to me not in fear. It bids me welcome.

The whispers are silent as my breath blows the leaves and trees.

I walk the path beside you gladly because you could not hear me.

 

Now can hear me?

Or do you scream...    

Author's Note

entered for contest

Reviews

[Carina Baumert]

Great poem! I hope you won this contest, you deserve to. I haven't won any of them myself and have given up on it. Better writers out there than me.

[Shep]

Thanks for the review Yes i won but this wasn't the poem that won it.

[Carina Baumert]

Well, congrats all the same

[Cherrie Palmer]

The whispers that lead us and call us out or the silence that refuses to speak.

[Shep]

Yes very true glad you liked it

[Cherrie Palmer]

It moved very smoothly

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the energy and the drive of your words. I enjoyed the many questions leading to the strong ending. Scream or whisper, we must do one. Thank you Shep for sharing the amazing poetry. I liked this one.
Coyote

[Shep]

Glad you like its an old poem.

[Coyote Poetry]

I did enjoy the old poem. You are a amazing writer.

[DeliriousCerises]

This got quite dark quite quickly, I definitely didn't expect that when I first started reading it, but I enjoyed it all together. I felt an icy grip on my soul as I read. Well done.

[Stammers]

as my breath blows the leaves and trees. - nice line.

[Raya Avans]

Well you took this a different way then I thought it was going to go, right into the middle, threw me off, but in a good way. :) I enjoyed this poem.. especially the first few stanzas.. well done :)

~ rae

[Esana Bridges]

Like walking in a graveyard and feeling like everything means something...It creates a very "chill down your spine" feel. I particularly like the last line with "Or do you scream..." because it makes me imagine that the person Death is talking to, now that they know that Death walks next to them, is now unable to hear Death because they're screaming too loud.

There are a few grammatical issues that kind of bug me (ex. "footprints" instead of "foot prints", "bids" instead of "abides"), but all in all it's quite eerily pretty.

[.........]

It's sort of a Halloween poem to me, and I like its style. The only thing about this poem that I don't like so much is in the beginning when the stanza is a question but you end it with a period. For me that distracts a little from the message because it puts a halt to the fly. On the other hand at the end of this poem it says, "Or do you scream...." as you taper off, as if you are wondering, yet you're not quite sure you care anymore

[Kaylor Mason]

Reminds me of an old saying penned from Frank Herbert's work Dune: "Paradise on my right, damnation on my left, and the Angel of Death always one step behind me." (That's not a direct quote--I can't remember it verbatim.) But still, this one reminds me how close Death always is, to everyone--we all live on borrowed time, no matter what. In this poem, also, Death isn't seen as evil, nor is he good--he's neutral, a specially designated angel with a very specific job to do. People don't fear him because he wants to hurt them, they fear him because people always fear what they don't understand--and there's nothing more mysterious than old Death himself. That's a good element that most authors miss.
On a technical note, this is good in its pace and rhythm. The part about the rustling of the leaves was especially good for the mood. The way you didn't reveal that the narrator was Death himself until the very end was a very good touch, as well. This is elegant in its simplicity and tone--nice work

[flippyblue]

It definitely has an eerie, very winter-y feel... I like this piece very much.