The River~ Poem by Theodora (Theo) Onken
The River~
Pine river snakes itself through the hills
An unappealing stretch of dried beds and rock
Drought infested-near dry to the bone
A terminal slow death upon Mother Nature's clock;
Ghosts of yesterdays once full river haunt
You can hear them in the eerie wind, they call
Such desperate voices of long past seasons moan
Casting an ambience of deaths mournful pall;
Could an elegy bring honor and acceptance forth?
To the Pine rivers once fulfilling hand?
Or would a somber dirge of melancholy be more apt?
Today, in this, NO MANS, vulture cast land;
-
By, Theo, Sandra, Don, Gary, John and Andrea.
December 6,2012
Thanks to all who have followed it all and took
The time to help me figure things out.
There is a sense of wind here, moving water- of gathering and breaking. Astonishingly, I think you've somehow partly created it through letter strings- internal patterns. Masterful craftsmanship. One tiny poem: who will/can ever digest your body of work, except you? Astonishing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:02:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Well, Doug, i am glad that you were astonished. This was a collab. It's source sprung forth from the reading of anothers poetry. Those that follow my work, will know and beable to easily digest this piece. Thank you for taking the time to comment. Theo