i used to walk alone,
wondering at crossroads,
returning to the heap of leaves from yesteryear
under the old oak
watching the days oozing by.
cat in the woods,
i used to walk alone,
hearing no-one,
listening to the moss growing on the bark,
talking to no-one,
saying prayers in the night.
-
this may or may not continue :)
i enjoyed writing it, and i hope you liked it, too :)
the photo is lovely, anyway.
6 megjegyzés:
I liked your poem, you've shared a lot. It somehow has very autumn feeling to it...
what a fine remark here, Bart.
'autumn', as in 'saying goodbye', as 'gathering thoughts', or... ?
or was it just the words? or the rhythm?
There's a lot of "end of year" or "end of ...something" imagery here, which intrigues me. More to do with the associations the words bring to mind for me, I find it quite a powerful poem in some ways.
you know Bart, that is so fascinating about poetry, or let me put it in a less pretentious way, about 'writing' (for i don't consider myself a poet per se.
the thing is that you write something, out of inspiration, out of need, and you are not necessary aware of the undercurrents. sometimes it is the subconsciuous/guardian angel writing.
thanks for your words.
Actually, I think that poetry is a double edged sword which can be used to unlock hidden or suppressed meanings in the writers soul, but which also need to be deciphered by the reader in his or her own way, according to personal preferences or needs...
this is how a second (or third... and so on) poem is written, simply by reading...
i like your contribution, Bart.
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