The trees go on for miles, like pillars in a long-forgotten hall
where dwindling monarchs, softly stepping,
gather cobweb vestments about their spiderling bones and
stare with shuffling, empty eyes past mould and crumbling edifice
of former, failing, flickering glories.
The man who walks the endless stair
counts vertebrae with long and feeling fingers,
as bravely glistening facets of jewels that he would rend unto their essence.
The man forever wandering there finds no nepenthe
in his ever-spiraling motions.
In shiverings and in gales of breeze there comes a method of intent
that carries in its wake green leaves, like breathing stones,
to place a tremor in the hinges of the eyes,
born of the warmth of unspoken words,
and trace initials on the wind.
The trees go on for miles, and the monarch folds his bones
to rest within the doorframes of the many rooms,
and sits in silence and forgotten tears upon the cheeks of a mask,
for to hear the subtle movements of the hinges as they sway.
Beautiful, beautiful imagery.
ReplyDeleteI especially like the lines
"The man forever wandering there finds no nepenthe
in his ever-spiraling motions."
The entire fourth stanza.
"and sits in silence and forgotten tears upon the cheeks of a mask,
for to hear the subtle movements of the hinges as they sway"
You're good at making black lines on a white background look really gorgeous and colorful.
This poem's interesting because it's unlike a lot of your others in that it has one specific metaphor (I think it's a metaphor... I can't imagine what else it would be... O_o you'd think after reading a lot of this I'd start understanding it more) but anyway, I like it, it's different and it's more detailed since it really focuses on one particular idea. It stands out.
Fantastic job creating the feeling of a place and person so ancient and crumbled and decayed that they're halfway to becoming part of the earth...
Not sure how to explain what I mean, but you wrote it, so you might understand it better than I do.