silence is not...
the absence of sound,
but sound stripped naked and pure!
the thunderous crash of the acorn,
to the ground that startles the squirrel,
and freezes him with fear!
the squeak of the old spicket,
wailing for the water to rise,
from the dead bones of time.
the moan of dead bones,
returning back to dust,
as if sexual release.
and the prayers of the trees,
who see our foolishness,
and weep!
A wonderful really deep highly mature outstanding most incredible poem! A out of this world masterpiece.You virtually ooze poetry from the beautiful hand with which you write your fantastic poem which you give as the eternal gift to the world.God bless you.My respect for you is remains highest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, everything around us see's everything, a great write.