You never held your breath you said
but you never promised you would
I watched the big flakes through the glass
falling all over town, all over time
and took to studying history
And I remembered when we were white
and the trees were reaching upwards
I took my father’s axe to the woods
and left it where it was stolen
by a family of shadows
My ambitions were on the big side then
All of those trees were coming down
until they were saved by thieves
who never gave a toss for trees
or dreams of making good
Now all those trees are falling
and I’ve no nobler axe to grind
than building walls against the tide
with never a moment to spare
for spending the little left wisely
And the ploughs have broken through
to clear the streets of dreams
and from the other side of town
your breathing fogs the window
and fades, silent as snow on snow
A refined poetic imagination, Byepolar. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.
I really enjoyed this. The last three lines are an image which will haunt me. I also really enjoy a fresh way of using a cliche ('axe to grind') since I have read much diatribe deridng them on this site and others. I personally feel they are somewhat like myth, universal knowlege endowed with mystical powers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poetry with a image forming by itself.... I would like you read my poem LET ME RISE too... Naila 😃