Elated Letters Beneath a White Oak Tree

Tucked away for later,

were letters from elation,

jubilation

ringing in me,

cantillating

hype and reveries.

Written in the spring,

the spree of things

floated lightly out my 

fingertips,

glazed in harmony 

and sifting the ink

out my pen.

Buried beneath 

the white oak tree

created from virgin fantasy,

my aura,

my spirit

rested in peace

until I needed it.

I resurrected it though,

recurrently,

for too often I marinated

in my woes,

my foes,

picking at my skin,

till all I had left

were bones.

The ink however,

has now splintered

through the pages,

decaying

through the lifeless leaf.

I found myself

weeping through nights

for no reason at all,

I lost the sanity,

affliction resonating,

vociferous as

heartbeats

because I thought 

I’d lost it all.

Presently,

nevertheless,

I think perhaps,

it was allegiance,

the constancy,

telling me

I’m no longer in need

of it.

Reviews

[Antonio Valentino]

you aren't in need of it..

you need only be loyal to your worthiness and grace..

ever again a flawless piece.. one not to be embalmed but to be discovered deep within silent minds that need words for their, voice

outstanding as always!
:)

[Tai Ryens]

You have my admiration of all the parts of the poem, from concept to phrasing to imagery; I love it all. Amazing job here, I especially love the second to the last stanza.

[demureminds]

Thank you thank you