Iliterate Poet

A dumping ground for my works in progress.

25 Jan 2011

Furrowed Brow

Furrowed brow, lines are forming
Worn out nails and cracking skin.
The aging oak's, sapling memories.
Fire in belly, quenched and dull.
Life is spent and leaves start to fall.
Ebbing, gently pushing through, to the end.
Hoping for bright lights and trumpeters.
To guide you home and release all fears.
Silently dancing with angelic souls
Passing peacefully in fetal crouch.
Procession in, procession out.
Weary weathered face, released.
Body worn and beaten, ceased.

5 comments:

Love the last two lines and "The aging oak's, sapling memories" Lots of great images :-)
 
Great poem. "Passing peacefully in fetal crouch. / Procession in, procession out." Lyrical and profound, in particular toward the end.
 
I also like "Procession in, procession out." There's a sense of aging into oblivion and death, but also of continuity.
 
Outstanding imagery. Makes me want to stop time and not get older.
 
Thanks for all of your kind words :)
 

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