So much for silent nights,
Cold wind, reverie, city lights,
The country loud with silent frights
And aged elms plagued with blights
So much for lessons learned,
Looking back, getting on, bridges burned
And what of plans unfirmed?
What of being present and of being unconcerned?
So much for sullen songs
Writing prose, gentle touch, righting wrongs
The sparkly piano as the snow falls
The distant carol and hear the call
And what of brotherhood?
What of holding close to those that keep us feeling good?
What of being good to those who need us that we would?
What of being one for all? If only that we could.
A Shadow cast in an alley of light, the sensation felt must take flight.
Grounded in wisdom unseen in ages, within reason, the noble fade.
Have no worries. Heed no sorrow. A weeping willow reveals innermost turmoil.
In the dust, the aftermath of calamity, uprooted trees lie dead in their soil.
Fathom the call, can one not hear the crying, even though there is no sound at all?
Footsteps in the beaten path show life, a spark of vision of what once was and what can be.
The wind in the valley flows all around me.
That I know I am certain, giving hope as time goes, let there be peace and harmony.
Give what you can, life moves on ahead.
It may seem all so fleeting, oh so near and dear. Left in this world are memories. Timeless, ceaseless dreams.
Thank you, Pete. You inspired me. I understand writings may be interpreted in a variety of ways. Your poem gave me the impression that some things in life must not be taken for granted, or at least acknowledge what we do have and how we can make it better.
Poetry is so wonderful in how even if it reads like a gloomy affair, its undertones and inherent meaning may have something much more joyful and merry.
Most things that I write are intentionally ambiguous. I feel like something you can take the full measure of immediately is not very interesting to me.
It is ambiguous to me as well. I don't always know what I am going for, and sometimes they write themselves.
I started out aiming to write a nostalgic, secular, holiday poem. When it came out, it ended up being sort of bittersweet, and as you said, it does sort of read like a gloomy affair. I was going to do a final pass and cheer it up a bit, but I liked how the ambiguity and gloom made it very complicated. It evokes complicated emotions in me, good and bad, and that's interesting to me.