Death Of Years Poem by Howard Mcdougal
Death Of Years
Rating: ★5.0
Now fades the glimmer landscape
From your sight
Solomon stillness water holds
Some of those will feel
Water weight the hopeless wings
A drowning flight
Quench the blush
Ingeanious shame
In the inevitable hour
To last call
The lark is dieing.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: art
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Melvina Germain
08 November 2015
Quench the blush...so tranquil, the poem is surreal...Beau-ti-ful.....
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4/29/2024 12:07:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This has the sweet scent of an autumn dirge, a darkly portrait of the bitter seasons, a great portrait of language. This is stellar work.