The Wind
What moves within the unseen wind, whose form
Is given birth inside the labyrinths
Of leaves, whose shaking shadows in the storm
An eclipse cast upon the hyacinths
And trembling marigolds against the swarm
Of bellows loosed by tempests on the plinths
Or pedestals of thundersqualls that break
The lightning open, and the sun forsake?
The wind that rolls the moon across the night,
And fans the embers of the silent stars,
Entwines before my sedentary sight,
Then strums the leaves, like strings upon guitars;
Propels the clouds--leviathans of white--
Which gather and consume the flames of Mars,
And tethers all the world to hallowed breath,
Retreating, then advancing toward the arms of death.
John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards. As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.
John,
ReplyDeleteThis is so wonderfully rhymed. I love it!
Your friend,
David Fox
love this creative piece
ReplyDeleteA thought-provoking poem. It reminds me of my new poetry script titled When The Cold Winds Blow.
ReplyDeleteThis is a very creative and lovely write. I really enjoyed reading this awesome poem this morning. What a powerful piece, great work.
ReplyDeleteHi Everyone,
ReplyDeleteThank you for all your kind words on John's wonderful poem. I know he will appreciate them when he gets them by mail. John, thank you for your ongoing support and encouragement.
Blessings,
Karen