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Unlight
Unlight
Dec 29, 2008 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

Chaos

We are like a thorn in the ribs of the Earth
with our customs, mere ideals of clay
we smear ourselves with dust and frost
within our bodies, our bones, rusted by time, are snapping.

The grass riffles on the copper chines
the lands scream with bitter voices
on the heights, the wind also flies
calling the thirsty souls.

The clouds and the eerie mists are coming
the long forgotten times are weeping
When I lie lonely on a terrace, listening to them.
Because the season cries, the trees spin away.

Everything fades in a moment's time, they flee below
the frozen stones, piercing the hollows,
and, slowly, they're melted down by ardours
that reach towards a nebular graining.
— Unlight, Dec 29, 2008

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: Romania

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Critiques

P

poewriter58

17 years 5 months ago

Johnnie

Very descriptive and excellent wording in this work. Image provoking Chrys
ID

Ink Dragon

17 years 5 months ago

I second Chrys,

but there´s this "flea" (l.13), which I strongly suspect of being meant as a "flee"... Loved the imagery (again), Ink
B

barbsdad2003

17 years 5 months ago

I especially like ...

your metaphors/similes. They make for a rich read. Your connection(s) with nature---and with her moods---are striking, imaginative. As to When I lay lonely on a terrace, American English requires lay in that context to be lie. I suspect the Brit English demands the same. Join the crowd; it's an all too common error. If you were to say instead, for example, When I lay my head lonely on ..., the lay'd be just fine there. I'm glad I dropped in. I can tell you've an inspiring (to me) knack with words. Having just now read your piece, I breathe more fully, feel a bit lighter, the harshness of winter's become more bearable ... and of course I want more. Of what you write, I mean. Thanx, Chuck
Nordic cloud

Nordic cloud

17 years 5 months ago

Enjoyed

I was there in your poem and enjoyed being so, the feeling for nature is good and that is where you dance parallel with me in the world of words, their poignancy and sounds evoked, make a piece both quietly contemplative and disturbingly strident at the same time. (I have heard the fir trees cracking, they fall like match sticks in the heavy snows and frosts some years) Wonderful Winter poem. I live in Norway and we have -9%C today.