Graveyard Trees

The trees lay down

In monstrous grooves

in the forest ground

They are nestled there by flowers

As if each branch were a headstone

Handsome

He walks there in the evenings

Counting steps and trees

He walks until his fingers freeze

And the air fills his body

As the stars the sky

The land is old and worn

From feet like his

flattened by boots and steel

And the steady march of time

Which passes each grave

And lays the flowers with care

They breathe with him

Both the forest and the land

In their embrace he feels alive

Feels as though he is real

And that his wounds might heal

Mended together by some divine thread

In a spiritless world

In his spiritless head

◄ This Too

Death of a Flower ►

Comments

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Taylor Crowshaw

Fri 9th Nov 2018 09:54

A beautiful evocative poem. Thank you for sharing..­čĺĽ

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Alexandra Rockwell Lorenz

Thu 8th Nov 2018 23:54

Thank you for the comments - they really mean a lot

Big Sal

Thu 8th Nov 2018 23:31

Excellent piece, and the title is golden.­čîĚ

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walkingman

Thu 8th Nov 2018 23:04

I love the feel of this poem!

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Douglas MacGowan

Thu 8th Nov 2018 20:16

Your poem covers multiple senses: vision and scent and touch. That is hard to do in so few words, but you accomplish it really well.

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Alexandra Rockwell Lorenz

Thu 8th Nov 2018 18:48

Thank you Keith. It's a poem out of character for me but I really enjoyed writing it.

Alex

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keith jeffries

Thu 8th Nov 2018 18:21

There is a peculiar feeling of a lament about this poem which I find inexplicably attractive but difficult to grasp. Something deeper lies behind it which leaves the reader to ponder on its true significance..

Beautifully written and thank you

Keith

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