|
the wind that blows
by Peter Humphreysthe wind that blows
commands the trees
to bend and sway
in crazy dances
steps and moves
like Saturday night
in the dance-hall
of delight
a ballroom of romance
grasping and groping
hoping for a connection
only the dead elm
refused to sway
to the almighty power
but cracked
unbending
limb from limb
falling
dropping
on the snowdrops
spring was here
and the elm
that saw
our children grow
our parents
and
their parents too
was slowly
surrendering
its fate
not noble and defiant
as in some poets' romantic rhymes
but as slow death is
and can be
broken
torn
dismembered
bit by bit
on Nature's
butcher's slab
but hidden
in the snowdrop bank
young elms
are springing 03/10/2011
Posted on 03/10/2011
Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 03/11/11 at 10:35 PM A timeless theme (death and renewal) treated in a vivid, visual and moving manner. Lovely as the imagery of the young, romantically inclined, dancing trees is, I am much touched by the plight of the old elm. In an anthropomorphic vein, I wonder if it, in its dying and disintegration, receives any solace from the emerging saplings. |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 03/11/11 at 10:39 PM A timeless theme (death and renewal) treated in a vivid, visual and moving manner. As lovely as the imagery of the young, romantically inclined, dancing trees is, I am more touched by the plight of the old elm. In an anthropomorphic vein, does the elm, in its dying and disintegration, receive any solace from the emerging saplings? |
|
