The Still Pond Poem by Lance Carthen

To embracable depression for artistic release.

Silence engulfs the haunted meadow of the still pond.

What was once abundant with life and color is now dead and dormant.

Thick, dark green moss coats the ponds surface.

Repulse and stagnant decay fill the air.

Upon the full moon, apparations dance around the pond merrily.

If you listen closely, you can hear chanting, singing.

By sunrise the dancing and singing stop.

It is once again lifeless and dormant.

Deathly silent, sorrowful it sits.

Once again waiting for the night.

If you listen very closely.

You can hear it cry.