Prone, reaching, vulnerable I look to the heavens
Searching for the answers that I know will never be
I walk alone in silence, in the company of naked trees
The sun robbed me of the snow, left mud alone
To slosh against the soles of my aching, lonesome feet
And there is a silence that says that time itself has fled away
I walk in silence;just me, heaven, and the naked trees
Weary and restless within and without, I do not have
Energy left with which to cry out loud anymore
And if a teardrop falls in the forest and no one is around
It honestly does not ever, no it never makes a sound
So I walk in somber silence, looking up into the trees.
My dear, you basically wrote a blank verse piece without knowing it. I have changed the first stanza around just a bit to show you how close you are to it naturally:
Prone, reaching and vulnerable
I look up to the heavens
still searching for the answers,
answers that will never be
I walk alone in silence,
my company, the naked trees
Each line has sever syllables to it - the meter was there all along, all I did was zip it up some. This I think is your natural writing style. Please give it a try, I think you will do wonderful with it. As free verse it is strong and really needs nothing to improve. As blank verse it will have power the reader is simply overwhelmed by.
Now, don't get me wrong - I like it how it is, I just wanted to illustrate what I was commenting to you on before.
I owe it to you since now i have some time to review. so i really liked this write it kept me interested throughout the hole write which is not very long i love the imagery just like Jason said but i dont like it being so short only because i have seen lots of these writes. But they are never good but this one was great.
Thank You,
Very elqouent, I sort of wish the first stanza could be taken again and the nature-theme more developed, then it would have fulfilled its true potential according to my aesthetic opinion, however it still does justice to the ear, and brings the 'poverty' part of the title to life, bravo.
I write about my past, my own real experiences. Even my poetry is inspired by my life. I was, I suppose, born writing, making up stories and rhymes from about when I started to speak, but had to wait .. more..