Going Poem by Jordy lustig
Going
Rating: ★5.0
The drums roll,
a patron spirit glides past a frosty forest.
At a dash underneath,
spit lakes, flowers and swarms of snowfall birds.
we hear a echo folding the night,
the chambers of towers ring.
Loud bells moan,
going astir in the wind.
Dying dirt in mure,
Sinks to the deep abyss,
a mantle piece falls all sound stops,
and the huntsman rests.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Death
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5/2/2024 1:23:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Jordy. This such a good poem. A tension is built, and there is an immanent presence within the story and a tense mood is created so strong and direct in just a few lines! Great.. I like it a great deal.How about a few more when the mood grabs you? Cheers and keep writing. Geoffrey.