Dead buds on these limbs to bring forth a malice spring bleached blossoms become a whiter shade of guilty red made heavy from the owl that landed in broken flight my invisible noose to hang the sun that frames thy head.
This "nothing" is a place of placid belief with stale breath cold bark decays and renews, like the shedding of sin soft cries billow forth, from a widow that mourns her lover an amnesia fills the sky; forgetting when and how to begin.
Esoteric branches that touch the hallowed questioning a perch for the soulless that seek asylum from the storm the bow breaks, another cradle will rock.....watch it fall land softly, rain shatters like glass, my blood is lukewarm.
Nature and life's renewal. So beautiful the words you created here. I read the most beautiful things in your poetry. I find myself with this one just in awe. I have to agree with the others here, your imagery is always fantastic. I love the journey. Thank you.
This is such a vividly creative write Beth...I loved the fact that I could see and feel every emotion....every scene...your confusion was emphasized and classically portrayed by changing fonts in beginning and end of stanzas....I loved that technique. Quite frankly, I loved the poem...Your imagery was pin point perfect...Excellent write Beth
allen
As always, your art complements your words flawlessly. The twin-trunked tree, seemed to me more frozen than dead, though, as a pair of Grecian Dryads, caught, mid-dance, by the first rays of the dawn, and there petrified until the following nightfall. The image is of that which by rights ought to be beautiful and sustaining, rendered by no one's fault a place of horror, death and danger. The final stanza, utilizing clips from that best known of lullabies, seems to evoke a grudging acceptance of the situation, yet, with the "lands softly", hope for a good, if not an immediate outcome. Any poem that can so stir the pot of conflicting emotions within me MUST be adjudged a success!
Like life, you confuse the hell out of me.
Your tree of life is like patience, I have
none, but buds show promise, so I settle
back and wait for spring. I think you will
be happy with her, Dear. She stirs, takes
a few deep breaths and we are through
with the winter of our soul.