a winter of the soul

By seannelson
Fri, 04 Mar 2011
- 944 reads
5 comments
Most birds have flown away
skies are gray,
and it's a cold wind
in which the trees sway
the tractor rusts in the shed
and the farmer rusts in bed;
the painter lays down his brush
from the poet there's only hush
The melancholy and the ill
(the poor and raw of hand)
know winter as the well cannot;
they feel the outer chill
and they know the inner rot
It is not a season of light
but of struggle in the night,
a time of taxes and the taxed,
for perservering...
or re-considering
And though we've seen
joys, troubles and seasons pass before,
such as are mortal
must see one winter more
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Hi seannelson, I like this
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Hi seannelson,
I like this poem, it cunjures up winter so well.
Jenny.
- Log in to post comments
I liked this piece. Very
I liked this piece.
Very visual, I can imagine the scene in oil painting.
"...the tractor rusts in the shed...
ScoZen
- Log in to post comments
bleak and sad and tired -
Permalink Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on
bleak and sad and tired - you've captured it in this poem
- Log in to post comments
Another picture poem Sean. .
Another picture poem Sean. . sad and yes bleak and dismal
;)Pia
- Log in to post comments