This is an old poem of mine, which seemed appropriate to share today. It's one of my rare experiments with things like "rhyme" and "meter." Most of my poetry is more or less stream of consciousness free verse. This is from..... gah! It's from 1997! I feel old now. Oh well. Enjoy!
All the mist is on the mountain,
all the secrets there are hidden.
Twist of fate, drop of rain;
then the leaves begin to turn.
All the stars are in the sky,
all the tears within my eyes.
Words of pain, hurt of heart;
then the leaves begin to turn.
On the mountain there I roam,
seeking shelter and a home.
Flash of dart, borne of mind;
then the leaves begin to turn.
No true place for me to go;
surrounding me the voice of crow.
Peace of sleep, warmth of home;
when the leaves begin to turn.
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The musings of a woman who never could quite give up believing in the tales of faerie.
6 comments:
To everything there is a season, and a purpose to all things under heaven. :-)
Well written, my kola. :-)
Very nice! I love it!
Must be poetry day. I posted a poem too! Of course it seems like it sucks now. Thanks a lot. ;)
as usual, I love all your poetry....
Why, thank you! :-)
It's wonderful! This is exactly why I don't post any of my poetry. It all pales in comparison. They seem to start out pretty okay, but I get bored with it and there's an obvious spot where the poem goes from mediocre to mlah.
I don't know where that comes from, but it sure is pretty, and it makes me proud to be your mama.
All of your poetry that I have read astounds me; I wonder who you really are.
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