 |
 |
 |
| |
Trace
I look for sign on leaf littered flooring
Poke fingers in holes, brush aside lichen
Searching the ground for small broken twig-lets
For impressions of a passing step
Did you pass?
Once I felt warmth laying in dips
As if missed by minutes, or random fate
Or a cruelty that bittered bare bones
Curled up in those dips of relinquished heat
Did you pass by?
Placing my head on the dirt, straining ears
Auditory strings jangling with quiet
Silence measuring the distance in areas
Of existence, absence, orchestral hush
Did you pass here?
I have no imprints or broken stick trail
No echoed footfalls resounding off trees
Just empty bowers holding a sleeping
Ghost, a thin translucent apparition
Did you pass over?
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|
[Back to top]
|
|
 |
Comment by: mitra - 2008-02-04 22:57
|
|
| Love the way this is written with so much care. The questions in between never gives away what it really is until the last one. Well done. A deep sadness that is undeniable. Wonderful crafting. |
|
|
Well, you just have to love the lingering beauty in this poem. It is a fascinating read on a detective level, intense and mysterious, i.e. this stanza:
Placing my head on the dirt, straining ears
Auditory strings jangling with quiet
Silence measuring the distance in areas
Of existence, absence, orchestral hush
I love the way you blend nature with your sense of being too.
~Tony |
|
|
flow is excellent, as your poetry always tends to be.
Oddly calming, and I can't quite figure out why, but there it is... great read, thanks |
|
|
| Splendidly disconcerting. Srong religious tones; thoughts and motifs of there being a perception of things beyond our own perception. I read it as a Romantic (note the capital R) and Existentialist piece. A poem of paradox; like searching for meaning that we know is thoroughly absent. I love the dash in twiglets, too - really good onomatopoeia; that's just what it's like to tread on dried a dried twig in an eerie place. |
|
|
| I am new at this,as you probily figured out Lorna and I THANK YOU for reading my work as well.This to me touches feelings of loneliness in all of us,the feeling that they may not be too far away,this is what i get as an impression,and your writing is just incredable and depictive. |
| 1 2 Next |
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|