I
I follow in the footsteps
of old poets of the past.
As geese fly south in autumn.
Instinct is my only guide.
My attempts to emulate,
may not bear such worthy fruit.
I can only do my best
II
The trees discard all their leaves
and face winter nakedly.
I ask myself why this should be
but I receive no reply.
Winter winds pass freely through
the leafless twigs and branches.
Dead leaves return to the earth.
III
The trees stand as sentinels
coated with white bitter frost
Bowing in submission
to the power of the wind.
Better to bend than to break,
the trees know instinctively
the wind dies as spring returns.
IV
Only when the time is right
the geese will return once more.
The trees will put forth new leaves,
flowers spring up underfoot
The spring sunshine will inspire
Poets to take up their brush
and ink: To write poetry.
21-Oct-07
Hi Ivor! Theres a reason for everything that happens. I agree with Ernestine, a delight to read! ! ! ! A (10) ! Thad
Uummmmhhhhhhh! ! ! ! Just a lovely image strewn poem. A delight to read. Dreamy and inspiring. Loved it. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Igor, these lines stand out for me: 'Only when the time is right' and 'Poets to take up their brush and ink'