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Circles

A memorial tribute to the poetry of Aldan.

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Circles

Postby aldan » Mon Jul 18, 2005 10:29 pm

I sit on the creaking porch,
Resting my bones
On the warping wood
And watch my boy
Swing his scythe,
A laughing man,
A grinning reaper
Gathering the souls of the harvest
For the hungry so far away.

I remember the rains
That fed the fields;
And as they fell, I picked
A rose for my wife
And pricked my finger.
Red drops of petals fell,
Feeding the starving bush
That fed my love,
And so fed me.

And the pigs played happily
In the puddles beside
The slaughter pen.

I look out now upon
The willow shading my face,
Seeing the ivy en-wrapping
The trunk of the tortured tree.

The sun sets,
A glowing orb being doused
In the distant sea,
And I see tomorrow's tasks
Awaiting me like
A headsman's hood.

A lemon falls
From an orchard tree,
And splatters the ground
With bitter blood,
While ants march by twos
Toward the fallen fruit.

I stand and turn and walk
Through the door
That closes behind me.
"It is better to keep your mouth shut and to appear stupid than
to open it and remove all doubt."
---Mark Twain
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Postby Magus » Mon Oct 17, 2005 7:28 pm

I really liked this poem. I can't quite place what about it I liked so much, just an overall affect I think. At any rate it's very well written and enjoyably read.
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