The sun sets with loving certainty
The evening cold, that signals the ensuring frost, quietly descends
Finding its way into my sinews and bones,
Quietly attacking their soft plush centres.
The world is as it should be, vigorous and virile throughout.
It is only my physical body that is the traitor now
As it starts its slow meandering drive towards
The ruin they have been anticipating
The dark cavern my dreams have been tip-toeing around
Trying to not be too blunt or obvious.
But now the death-knells are vocal and shrill
Revealing that I, as young and beautiful as I once was, will now
Only ever be like the dying autumn leaves
Without their renewed counterparts – or, should I say -
My corporeal recycle through the earth will have nothing to do with
Me, for I, the real “I” that I am, will be long gone by then.
My time now will forever have that quiet desperate quality
As I scour the world to witness its grand majestic vitality
I can only ever come home each day to a dying, shrinking mass
The world and I forever drifting apart, piece by piece.
Now I will have to read the rest of your poems here. Again I feel exactly this same way. Well done, another 10.
Yes, just like the trees in Autumn, the leaves fall to the ground, leaving them bare, nothing last forever! A nice poem, Briony! Thanks for sharing!
I have just read your poem Dating Death and now this one, The Winter. Thought perhaps Dating Death may have been a work of fiction but after reading this as well I'm not so sure. They're both well written, but very poignant. If you are writing about yourself then i sympathise, very much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Stunning poem............10++ and added to my favorites.