In rank and file, silent journey.
Progress marked by age and eon,
Faces turned up toward the sky.
Stories known too slow to tell.
Epic battles lost and won, tho
Attrition felt in silent, song drenched time.
Lest a visitor hear the chorus,
Dialogue escapes our mind.
Friends and family, foes and villians,
Attack the hard shield of their souls.
Brandished iron, fire and brimstone,
Time and detail bygones known.
Still forward, upward, outward headed,
'till facing where they'd been before.
A distant memory stirs within them,
A familiar place, a silent word.
Stopped not by man nor weary station,
Direction, purpose, time unknown.
Glenn
A poem about a venerable old growth forest that is very gradually growing and migrating. Maybe. Maybe it is actually about something else.
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http://www.poetry.com/poems/whispers/14451682/
September 07, 2010
daniel-e.-pitcher
This is a great poem, though I think that line 7 could be fixed, I felt like it was out of place. Maybe take out the though and put in a period. It is a very very good poem though. You are talented. Keep practicing your poetry. I can see wonderful works coming from you, and I would love to read them.
August 23, 2010
10! This one is a masterpiece! Lovely, creative, interesting. (Still forward, upward, outward headed..beautiful thoughts!) Well achieved piece of art! Please keep writing! You have a lot of talent. Would you kindly rate (until the fold) ty
1 comment:
I do love it. Love. Love.
A poem for you and others that care to read it of like mind...
When Beauty Has Its Sense Be Called
When beauty has its sense be called
And jewels adorn it seem as flawed
To ask why should we not rely
On what is yet in faith untried
When what we choose in faith receive
To that unknown is given grace
Then be shut out from what we're gived
In heaven's setting yet to live.
To bring alone a gift unasked
It cannot be to mourn the task
And cannot bring and then unsend
What first was meant then unintend
To cower safe and not to climb
To choose unlearn was twice was taught
A standard death accompanies
Too-early flowers and warming seas.
I'll choose to lie in frozen waves
And grow in plots set not to yield
A blanket thrown to mask the chill
Would cover not and never will.
I rather choose to love the cold
Be borne on truth and truth be bold
And when the chance to climb does come
Leave nothing truly loved undone
I'll climb and climb each golden rung
And pleasures dripping trail the sun.
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