Winter's Prophecy Poem by Seamus O' Brian
Winter's Prophecy
With a crack of thunder, impales this summer afternoon
echoing insidiously the laughing voice of winter coming soon.
The brilliant spears of August's sun glance off the turning leaves
conceal the drafts of winter, sparkling icy shafts along the eaves;
traced along the greenward curl of a fern's unfolding curve
lurks the hoary breath of winter's death, restrained in chill reserve.
And in the strength of this right hand, within this frame of living breath
walks the prophet of my winter, the seeds of my own death.
wow! i like the muscular feel of this, neal, appropriate to the subject. again you dazzle with your words. i've been thinking/feeling similar thoughts. perhaps you've seen my little poems, late july and last day in july. -glen
Life is like the seasons, hopefully they will be ageless unlike our short span. The poem builds slowly yet strongly to its climactic last line.
Winter's death is restrained in chill reserve. An amazingly expressed poem is shared here is very interestingly penned. Journey of life starts in birth and ends in death....10
Thank you, my good writer! I so appreciate your gracious comments and for taking the time to read my poems. Be blessed my friend!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 12:30:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
p.s. on the seasons, one of my very favorite children's picture books is frederick by leo lionni. do you know it? -glen