Old Pictures Poem by Sandra Fowler
Old Pictures
Clouds hang old pictures on the wavering air,
Like wine wallpaper threadbare to the light.
Cold leaves cut shadows on the poet's cheek.
The clarity is bell like to the bone.
The sun pulls down the heavy cloth of sky,
Muffles the scissor sound of rising wind.
One red bird burns upon the rim of dark.
God knows what name would bring him winging back.
Previously published, 'Appalachian Heritage'
Old is gold and Sandra the best witness you gave by this word painting.
This is a beautiful mood piece, with fantastic imagery. I read it over several times and enjoyed it each time.
Light and shade, and a predominant colour of red - this poem paints a delightful picture. Patrick
This is… Fantastic! ! ! Really very beautiful, You are quite the wordsmith!
Well done work, the way you've wrote this poem really inspires me!
Sandra, You are a master painter of poetic imagery in words! 10+ =Raj
you paint with words, and your images are so evocative. although here there are no rhymes, but still the poem has music and rhythm. every time i read any of your poems, i just hang on to each line, amazing vision.10 Mamta
The clarity of your images continues to astonish in this mesmerizing piece that paints, with light and grace, the last rays of the setting sun. 'The clarity is bell like to the bone.' and 'the scissor sound of rising wind.' are particularly evocative metaphors. Superb. love, Alison ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 5:08:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Clouds hang old pictures on the wavering air, this poem is a beauty.......thanks for sharing wishes jibin