Disenchanted

(reflecting on a once revered place and memory)

shadows fall upon meadow grass

where once from atop a hill

sol burned on rolled bales of hay

.

august baked in noon blaze heat

replete with happiness was i, from

top knot hair to bare soles of feet

.

golden moments to remember

when black crows in random rows

became musical notes of song

.

how this valley sang of summer

from gentle slopes sweeping down

to where death's stain now lingers

.

fingers will forever point to where

a blade in winter flashed cold steel

plunged in anger into tender flesh

.

perpetrators all three doomed

young lives brewing in ruin and one

adolescent mourned in disbelief

.

      grief pervades our valley

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I love so much of the language in this piece:

"when black crows in random rows"

"fingers will forever point to where
a blade in winter flashed cold steel
plunged in anger into tender flesh"

That being said, this is apparently referencing the murder of one child by three others. Such a tragedy for everyone concerned.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Linda. I appreciate your visit and your thoughts.

Chris

[Corset]

There is such a sadness written into this beautiful poem, the crows being musical notes I loved that visual illumination as one dagger can change a tender heart's impression of the world and the people and loves that form the illusion of safe-havens. A hardening akin to summer to winter. Youthful impressionism vs reality, not a single person exempt from the blade of life or its mortal lesson. Sooner or later the grief will come.

[Chris Shaw]

Many thanks Corset for your thoughtful review. Appreciate you stopping by.

Chris

[Alexcat]

devastating and beautiful, thank you.

[Chris Shaw]

Many thanks Alexcat. I appreciate you stopping by to read.

Chris

[andrew mitchell]

The pendulum of time swings in this write from beauty to dark undertones, great imagery and flawlessly written, ver6 impressive Chris.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you so much Andrew. A favourite place, has sort of lost it's appeal.

Chris

[MOON]

Poignant and beautifully conveyed , could picture the scenes.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Moon for stopping by with your thoughts. Most appreciated.

Chris

[Laz K.]

I expected a philosophical investigation of how often in life we become disenchanted with things previously considered wonderful. The ending surprised and shocked me, as it revealed that the poem deals with events from our life from our time. It brings the idea of disenchantment to focus even more sharply than if it had been about general things.

Also, as always, the way you express the theme is very skillful, masterful, and professional.

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Laz, your encouragement is truly appreciated. I thank you for stopping by and leaving such a lovely review.

Chris

[Betty Hermelee]

Golden moments in a baking summer, joyous to behold turns ugly during winter when the life of a young soul was taken brutally, creating grief over the entire valley; and the perps will forever pay for this heinous crime. No one will ever forget the stain that lingers.
Beautiful, but sad write…
Thanks for sharing Chris
Best to you,
B.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you for your understanding review Betty. A beautiful place which has lost its appeal. I don't think I will be returning for a long while. Such senseless violence.

Chris

[red93]

Very atmospheric and mysterious Chris, almost like an idea for a film it is so visual, excellent description as well.

[Chris Shaw]

Many thanks Tony. Pleased you picked up on the imagery. That is a feature of my writing style.

Chris

[.]

You described a place once adorned with multiple grace of nature like blazing sun, beautiful valley, musical note by the crowd, meadows, etc but now is stained with blood of innocent probably. A soothing memory suddenly changed into a gory sight.. It's so painful... Beautiful but sad write

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Sima. Yes my beautiful place, isn't quite so lovely now. Permanently stained. Many thank yous for stopping by.

Chris

[Samuel Dickens]

This reminds me of the time I stood upon a Civil War battlefield. A meadow on one side with green blades of grass swaying in summer breeze--on the other, a small growth of trees, hiding a thousand bullet holes beneath aged bark. All was normal and serene, it seemed, yet the ghosts say different. You've written words that are clear and true.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Sam, yes you have given a fine example. Hard to contemplate a place of peace, tranquility and beauty being battle scarred. Thank you for stopping by. You are appreciated.

Chris