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THE SCARECROW
The animals and the birds
do just fine
the trees
either sway in the breeze
or
stay as still as ghosts
At the core of my being
lies a sepulcher
that traps
rays of the sun
and holds them
prisoner
in its dark evil heart
The sweet
inner dynamism
trundles to a halt
and is sucked into
the heart of
obscuration
A deviated, decadent
route
is mapped through
death which parades
as life
Everything feels
like death
smells like death
and tastes like
death
A dense, heavy cloud
settles over me
becoming my shroud
My epitaph
is my life
my death -
my liberation
Editing stage:
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Comments
Esker
Tue, 2014-08-12 05:23
the scarecrow sounds rejuvenated
but at the end line needs to get away for a bit
like a lot of professions
big pay..no holidays.
on call all the time
its like death
never there for fam..
but a scarecrow
has its visitors
sees what it needs
the birds and wildlife
come around
love your use of words
"the sweet inner dynamism..etc"
i greatly admire this!
as poets we may see each
other on the trail
liberating our watfchful existance
through words!
thenk you!
Leonard
Wed, 2014-08-13 01:32
Thank you Esker
for your discerning read. Especially your last stanza - so true.
Cheers
Leonard Daranjo
"When the waiting stops, the living begins"
Esker
Wed, 2014-08-13 17:02
because der is a lot of peckerbirds on yer shoulder
gnawing your grains and tapping at the straw fer a brain....
thanks leonard!
wesley snow
Wed, 2014-08-13 21:55
The language is strong
as is the subject matter. I have no suggestions to make.
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Leonard
Wed, 2014-08-13 23:12
Thanks Wes
Your comment means a lot.
Cheers
Leonard Daranjo
"When the waiting stops, the living begins"