Unheard

"I shall close my eyes and pray the winds find me, for they visit this time of the year;
Far from vile voices that ring noisy quarters, come cascades I await you here.
They say the winds have run their course, it's all warmth once this winter ends,
So I come to you through tirades and tears, do cleanse them and we'll make amends."
"Yet it isn't the year of finals and farewells, riddled with absence and mute memories;
No one to weep to hold them dear, forgotten in the face of summer stories,
Oh I want no share of your winterless world, of the snowless spaces you'll secure;
All disputes of the day dispersed in dreams, shall the nestled nights endure?"
"I tremble no more of cold but fear, by the lake we would scrounge for trout,
No trails to pursue but for the distant bonfire, there are no hands held out;
So the hungry howls of shepherds haunt me, they sound so enraged nay lost,
As whispers echo in the earless wild, speak of secrets sealed in the frost..."
The lambent poles bleed brilliant orbs, that settle across the melting snow,
Her faint frail fingers frisk barren boughs, as she musters the courage to know,
So nightmares of old mold infantile visions, of creatures that claw the thin ice, Obscure to leagues of perverse merry-men, who dance to dear winter's demise!

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

'"Yet it isn't the year of finals and farewells, riddled with absence and mute memories;
No one to weep to hold them dear, forgotten in the face of summer stories, '

Each of your phrases holds a subtle tone, each stanza has unforced emotion. In fact your entire poem has everything a poem should hold - mostly perhaps: natural meter. Superb.

[Swagato Saha]

Thank you for your insights.

[Lakeyia]

I really enjoyed reading your poem. I found it to be very beautiful and I can't wait to read more of them from you in the future. Going from one section to another all I wanted to do was read more. I actually read this twice.

[Swagato Saha]

Thank you. I am really glad you liked it.

[Coyote Poetry]

My talented friend. Your writing is so good. You need to write a book. Your words dance to perfect meaning.
"The lambent poles bleed brilliant orbs, that settle across the melting snow,
Her faint frail fingers frisk barren boughs, as she musters the courage to know,
So nightmares of old mold infantile visions, of creatures that claw the thin ice,
Obscure to leagues of perverse merry-men, who dance to dear winter's demise!"
I love the above lines. The harshness make the words come alive for the reader. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Danny Metcalfe]

Really beautiful poem. 'So nightmares of old mold infantile visions, of creatures that claw the thin ice,
Obscure to leagues of perverse merry-men, who dance to dear winter's demise!' These lines are my favorite. They paint a great image upon the imagination.

[T.S. Ulmus]

A beautiful piece so eloquently crafted, the last stanza in particular is very stirring. You've demonstrated a great amount of skill and I intend to look through your other works on the strength of this. It's structurally very sound and reads easily but moreover it's beautiful.