|Married to a Field
In the dust-covered silence,
only the occasional cracking sounds;
the house’s skeleton stretching in its sleep,
annoy her mind into motion.
On the other side of the glass,
a long-limbed tree, restless, sequestered
between wide fields and this shrinking circle of civilization,
strokes dead grass, its pointed, painted nails
yellowing in the thirsty afternoon air.
Two of a kind; fragile roots in hard clay,
withering in the wind
that blows autumn toward winter
in round, rushing sweeps of parched wheat.
7 Oct 05
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AGH! This is so incredibly good!
O my goodness, you liked it? How nice! Thanks for posting!
I love it, I can see it and I can smell the night and the dust.
You write poetry like
an Artist paints!
I love this poem.
"Fragil roots in hard clay......
This to me explains her own life.....
"withering in the wind"
the presnet state and condition of her own life....
"That blows autumn toward winter....
This is not a young woman..
but already in the autumn of her life, and moving toward the winter (or end) of her life.
I love this!!!!!!!
I really cannot say enough about your words.
All that it paints
the images of her life.......
This is beautiful!
Thisis imcredibly evocative with a real dust bowl feel Knock out and memorable imagery.
Larry the dust blows forward and the dust blows back Lark
line 12 in my favourite.
maybe change 'that blows' to blowing. that would connect the lines 10 - 13 a lot more i feel.
I would like to see more poets comment on this, please. It deserves more.
Thank you Isabel!
yeah, this is something!
reply to your comment: no... sorry i wish. i'll be recording as soon as i can. i already have music for that song "moonclouds."
in this poem i feel as if i'm in a texas ghost town...or i dunno. very good job with personification: quite interesting and far from usual.