Abandoned

The soft breeze whispers,

wiping away any trace of harm.

The leaves touch ever so gently,

whispering only to each other,

being cast wherever the wind takes them.

The wind picks up, 

violently yet so gently.

The whispers turn to screams,

the hurt returns.

Rage, rampage, a land of loss,

sanity flees.

Happiness is abandoned,

but was it ever to be found?

The calmness returns.

Winds quiet to a breeze once again.

Leaves lay silently.

The mind returns to peace,

calmness,

ease.

Author's Note

I tried to make this something that changed moods quickly with few lines. I wanted to paint the picture and the feelings, while still being able to change them. I think I like that it ends strangely, but I'm really not sure, so thoughts are, of course, welcome. Thank you, lovelies. xo

Reviews

[Somber Eyes]

Such sad, twisted beauty, filled with extremely powerful images and emotion. Yet another masterpiece. But I must ask -- is this really about nature? On the surface, your words paint a picture of soothing, then a mixture of pain, loss, and other negative emotions, and then it quickly shifts back to a soothing calm. Each stage has its own feel and its own imagery, and it's done very well, but to me, none of it is especially dark or dangerous. And then my twisted mind takes over. When I look underneath the surface, I see something much darker. Here's my interpretation...

"The soft breeze whispers,
wiping away any trace of harm.
The leaves touch ever so gently,
whispering only to each other,
being cast wherever the wind takes them."

... I just finished cutting, and I'm gently blowing on the open wound, as if the pain is bubbling on the surface, and my gentle breath blows it away, to dissipate into nothingness. The blood drops gently touch, some of them merging, and make their way across my skin...

"The wind picks up,
violently yet so gently.
The whispers turn to screams,
the hurt returns.
Rage, rampage, a land of loss,
sanity flees.
Happiness is abandoned,
but was it ever to be found?"

... No, there's still too much pain. Blowing harder, but the pain's still there, even increasing. Must make another cut. Another. Another. The blood drops from all the cuts crash violently into each other as the blade tears through the flesh...

"The calmness returns.
The wind quiets to a breeze once again.
The leaves lay silently.
The mind returns to peace,
calmness,
ease."

... The rage is bled out, the shaking slows, breathing returns to normal. The blood clots, and the droplets are still, unmoving. Heart beats slowly, breathing is slow and even, the pain is chased away for one more night.

[Kelsey]

Wow. I'm rather amazed by your interpretation of this piece. Honestly, it wasn't written with those happenings in mind, though it certainly could apply. I actually started the poem while sitting back in the woods, all of these things actually happening. I wanted to depict the weather changing, just as my moods would change with the weather. One moment I was calm, and then the wind would pick up and my thoughts would soon follow. Then the wind would slow, the thoughts would calm themselves, and for a moment, things were serene once again. I never would've thought to relate it to what you did, I'm quite impressed. Thank you, once again.

[Steven Cash]

It was good. Sort of abstract which is good

[Kelsey]

Thanks dear. x

[Steven Cash]

Np