The swan did not die as elegantly as she had dreamed
Free willed mid-flight into waters rich serene
Lazing upon the bank sun stroking her plume
She did not pass away as she dared hope or assume
She died beneath the foliage of her most desired oak
A stifling long term within his ivy which choke
His branches entwined her intestines to core
A twist of the gut which he chose to ignore
He gazed across the waters assuming his role
Never stopping to observe the damage, its toll
The swan she did not die a last elegant breath
Her oak barely noticed, when her spirit had left
Oh! A great poem pulling the chords of my heart for the dead Swan.A poignant write which remains. Thanks and best wishes.
A fine tribute to a majestic bird. I got a bit lost in the second verse. Am I right, she ate the fruit of ivy which was growing on her favourite oak and in turn it twisted her intestine. Lovely imagery the vine strangling the tree and then her life. The oak home to the swan, oblivious to her plight. A fine sensitive write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This was very well written. You have a really nice flow in your lines here.