Treasure Island

Samantha Campbell

(July 2 1979 / ohio)

To Autumn

Autumn orange
green and gold
clinging to trees
until they're old
eventually finding their
way to the ground
and lying in wait
until they're found

Leaves swoon on in the distance
rolling off the feathery arms of breeze
and the leaves shimmy shake in its echos
singing of wisdom
singing of strength
singing of journey
of time caught in sighs

Lazily in the rest of a mother's eyes
she's here for nothing but the chance
that energy may reach her to dance
and giggle carelessly
until joy renders her
unto a restless sleep
and she is she
for no one else but she
and bare feet reach
the cold naked dirt
igniting a power
underneath the skirt
to scream for the things
that don't make any sense
for questions that render you
for years in suspense
give them to the clouds
and let it rain wet you rinsed
dilated taking the air cool off the taste buds
and feeling the love that you questioned
that you wondered was it enough cause it was
taking the pictures still spinning in your memory
and smiling and thanking and recognizing all the things
those things you didn't get those things you are now getting

While warranting sacred solitude
I found harmonious solemn
beholding serene serendipity
vastly dissolving amidst beautiful blue skies
that were soon covered by dark cloudy clusters
which overshadowed my discovered
chosen place of eternal resting
as I become as of countless others
wondering spirits seek everlasting salvation
within peaceful tranquility
my searching
my journey
will continue
Its easy to see
the tombstone
has been written
Casket closed
body decomposed
I suppose
the art of me
the heart of me
how can this be
now I am
a part
of history

By Samantha Campbell

A thing of beauty is a joy forever:
its loveliness increases;
it will never pass into nothingness. ~ John Keats

Submitted: Monday, June 11, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Not sure how to explain this one lol well so it was inspired by a dream I had... In the dream I was dead and buried but I was still aware of what was going on around me above ground it wasn't scary it was more beautiful But there was a twist at the end of the dream I turned around to see my Tombstone and it wasn't me it was John Keats Tombstone

I was looking for a quote By John Keats about Death to add here but I found a poem he wrote instead called 'To Autumn' kinda freaky cause its similar to my poem here so I'm kinda at a loss for words and kinda creeped out.

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