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Open Poetry #41
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America Lost
| Open Poetry #41 |
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America Lost |
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secondhanddreampoet Member Ascendant
since 2006-11-07
Posts 6394a 'Universalist' ! 
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America Lost Beneath the splintering clouds, a cold November mist hugs dismal, barren hills in its grip of wintry desolation, as phantom echoes of a baleful bell, ride the drizzle-wind… tolling Autumn’s passing to the depths of sky and sea. It is then that we most recall our finest youthful illusions, surrendered to inequity’s crush, and all the hopes, dreams, loves, and lives… lost in the infinitely redundant rhythms of history and Time! |
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| © Copyright 2007 Bruce E. Adams Jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Artic Wind Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 8080Realm of Supernatural |
ENJOYED ARCTIC WIND |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
To me this is hauntingly beautiful but I think you need spring,Bruce Ida |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Those hopes and dreams are never lost, Bruce... merely camouflaged by the grit of time and trouble, but never, are they lost. Dig deep, dearest poet. Close your eyes for one moment, and remember: the sight of cherry blossoms as they spring open each year; feel the love and devotion of your cat as she purrs and kneads your lap; envelop yourself in the aroma and taste of a finely brewed cup of tea in one hand, as your turn the pages in your favorite new book in the other. I know without a doubt, many look forward each day to your presence. Winter, is a resting period, a transitional moment in Gaia's busy year. Let her beauty wrap you in pleasant thoughts. namaste, hugs (PS...cherish is the word......) |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
Tree branches delicately bent as light snow covers it in fairy frost. Cold that kisses the cheeks; snow that squeeks with each step. Silent air that carries the whir of a bird's wing as it breaks the quiet. Ice with patterned cracks; each creating art in the frozen water. Dogs with noses buried in the snow, seeking the ever-elusive voles that live in the subnivean space below. Grouse jumping from branch to branch for the taste of the last succulent choke cherries. My gift to you, Bruce, this Thanksgiving - is part of my world. It's a world filled with seasonal beauty and it forever has hope for peace on Earth. Your friend, Alison |
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TomMark Member Elite
since 2007-07-27
Posts 2133LA,CA |
sad |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
I know that you know that we both know and understand~~~  M |
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ArtSolstice Member
since 2007-03-18
Posts 498 |
Although this poem has a great deal of gravity, before it moves down the blue page ... The equation you make between nature's season and the season of your heart is sobering and brings tears. However, as long as one is alive, Poet, hopes and dreams are never lost. |
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