elysabeth faslund

(11/23/49 / Thibodaux. Louisiana)

..........................The Yellow Rose


The Veil is translucent. Owls eye complacently.
Do not fly. Not this day, night.
They blink gold discs. Ruffle feathers.
Talon branches tight, anchoring legends.
Mists under Sun, Moon.
Owls of lace, blood, warmth...waiting.

My father twined the Linden and Ash, though
He never knew...while Earth held him.
Blooded fighting hands, balancing the butterfly.
Teaching me. Softness, quiet, gentility.
Voice to shake mountains. Move them
Out of his weariness.
Yellow roses. His favorite.
Did he take one with him...
Or leave them all with me...

Owls call my name, today. Did you hear them?
Again, and again. I cannot answer the legend.
I want...
I need...

Tethers loosen. Drifting. Floating away from
The Shore. Freedom. Lightness.

My father's hand reaches through the Mist.
Pulls me back.
His other hand holds a yellow rose.

Submitted: Tuesday, November 18, 2008

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Comments about this poem (..........................The Yellow Rose by elysabeth faslund )

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  • Unwritten Soul (4/15/2012 8:01:00 AM)

    I love the passion, calm, soft and beauty in this write...it could be one of the best poems that i have found for today..keep writing with all elements above! 10+++_Unwritten Soul (Report) Reply

  • Adi Cox (7/4/2009 9:02:00 AM)

    There is so much going on in this poem. It can be understood in so many different ways. I think you have struck a rich vein of creativity.10/10 (Report) Reply

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