Annael Posted December 10, 2002 Report Posted December 10, 2002 The air is crisp The wind blowing life to an end Warning of harsher things to come I walk, bundled up The Toronto skyline bright In the chilly morning I stop Tilt my head back And take a deep breath Voices of the past Reach out to me In the fingers of the air Brushing my face Telling of horrors And loves past Reminding that with the winter And the telling of death There is hope Hope for the new The beginning The light The spring will come And the winter blahs Will fade away The buds will burst The birdies chirp The children play I spread my arms And fall forward Into the arms of the air The air rushes thru my hair The tears pushed from my eyes My cheeks becoming chapped Submurged Engulfed by the water My clothes heavy I sink Looking up I see The tower that says much The dreams of man The triumphs And the failures I gasp Water rushing in My eyes starting to blur How much harsher Could it be?
Guest Mister Burrofoot Posted December 10, 2002 Report Posted December 10, 2002 Very Interesting poem! I like it.
SoaringIcarus Posted December 11, 2002 Report Posted December 11, 2002 Wow. A most impressive poem. Quite powerful; I had to sit here for a moment, soaking in all it's power. It's rather vivid, and happens to have some of my favorite timeless themes of seasons. I really look forward to reading more of your work. Post more often, please! -Icarus
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