My feet walk the frozen fields,
the hard unyielding earth
holding my cold heart;
A flicker stirs within,
nudging a fresh awakening of
memories and consequences.
Anguish crosses
a permeable fabric
woven of whispered wishes.
The flame burns hot,
Fueling regret;
Spitting sparks of truth
That sear and shock.
The fire passes,
leaving warm embers.
Their ashes nourish
my parched earth.
Fields of serenity
replace the stony ground.
Golden poppies blossom and
scatter their seeds.
This poem was written using the following Sunday Whirl wordle prompt. Pop over for more poetry using this week's words.
6 comments:
Hi, Annette-
Beautiful... I especially like the last four lines.
P.S. I love your blog.
truth does that, burn us raw
happy gooseberry day!
http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2012/02/05/postdiction/
I love how you have the entire cycle of life wrapped up in your poem.I like the way you remind that fire is a force for good, as well, a necessary force, at that. On top of all that you have made the poem metaphorical!
powerful.
You have captured life's cycle in high relief- ending with the golden poppies lifts the heart.
"Their ashes nourish my parched earth"...Wow! Strong words that pack a wallop.
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