Bleak

The snow falls to the ground,

The plants wither into skeletons,

The trees are stripped of their leaves,

And left naked in the frigid air.

 

I stand alone in this room,

Watching the ravens fly around the furnace.

The yard littered with summer's waste,

Becomes blanketed with grey.

I burn the candles to no avail,

The drafty air blows out the flames.

 

I think of the forest,

And the bench where I shared my first kiss,

And how crestfallen it must look.

The rest of the woods are dead,

The trees like black corpses laying on the grey sky.

 

My old church lies abandoned outside these woods,

The windows as cracked as my frozen hands.

The furnace leaks a gaseous flame,

And I flee through the blackened gate,

To a cobblestone road that leads back home.

Author's Note

I was inspired to write this poem while watching this video and listening to the song, which is called "Idle Blood" by Katatonia.

Reviews

[Moflo]

Oh wow such powerful images. This was fantastic, you really have a way of using words to paint powerful, powerful pictures. I liked it a lot!

[Ruth]

Wow!
Great poem love! Quite unsettling and very well written!
xx