When a tree dies,
drops to the forest floor,
who witnesses its end of time
in the thickening upward thrust of life
from the restless earth below?
Each night I fall to deathless sleep,
dissolving in a soup of dreams,
surreal and myriad, lonely worlds
where I’m lost in places
I’ve never been,
trapped in a vortex
of nightmare landscapes,
with strangers whispering
smiling lies.
Keats wondered about the death of Being,
pondered on his Grecian urn.
Sad with searching, sickening fast,
he left us beauty, truth and art
to transcend tragic loss of time.
I scribble endless words and lines,
defiant in my flawed creations,
knowing well the limitations
but chasing voices,
other lives,
to witness
I was here, I matter –
not gone forever, lost from sight,
just humus on that forest floor.
© bba, 31/05/2011
Lovely writing, Barbara. This is a wonderful collection of words that beg to be read and re-read: "surreal and myriad, lonely worlds".
ReplyDeleteThe poem is a journey of the mind and what way you manage to portray it with such delights as:
trapped in a vortex
of nightmare landscapes,
with strangers whispering
smiling lies.
A delight, to read and wander through your words.
Really nice write, Barbara. :) Says it all! x
ReplyDeleteBobby and Susan, thankyou for reading.
ReplyDeleteThis is one I've workshopped with Eamon ...and I thought it might be a good thing to have it at the beginnings of the blog...
One reason for writing...but of course there are many others...
A lot of food for thought here Barbara. I think I commented on this on W4All, but it's good to read it here again. Rachael
ReplyDeleteThankyou Rachael, and yes, you did comment previously so thankyou for that and for visiting here..
ReplyDeleteI guess there will be a few duplications happening, though this one has been edited and polished up a bit more...hopefully for the better..
XX
I was here, I matter –
ReplyDeletenot gone forever, lost from sight,
just humus on that forest floor.
This. This exactly.
Yes, who want to be invisible?
ReplyDeleteNone of us really, and certainly not writers, even though some of us hav a very small footprint!
Thanks for reading, owl..