True Story

They stepped into the forest To dig up a house Out from the wind Pushed it down to the soil Which died choked By red, dusty spores The river’s running down Through a moist slide Twisted into whine What’s left? Cracks Drowned in salt While there’s some light Long not for the ones Looking up with a glare Shrinking infinity (again) To make it fit On the back of their heads Like a new hat, with a hare If there’s not a book in the shelf They walked into the woods Every step stayed to feast It holds until the end Yet the forest turned to sand Again… Now memories burn And flashbacks frequently come Rain could help But yellow thoughts scream loudly Long time since she ran away [This happened....and it keeps happening]

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Jay Loveless

Date: 10/16/2009 9:55:00 AM

.... soup mail. ill comment there, because, id like to, discuss this one with you, rather than misinterpreting what you may possibly mean. xo raiin

Rahul Gade

Date: 8/4/2009 12:33:00 PM

brilliant discovery of this poem to cherish as food to thought. perfectly written very stanza is mesmerizing. thanks cheers

Chelsea ...

Date: 7/31/2009 9:57:00 PM

This is a really good poem. I enjoyed reading it alot.

Robert Coles

Date: 7/31/2009 5:47:00 AM

Snails:) . . . Enchanting

Yoni Dvorkis

Date: 6/1/2009 7:27:00 PM

Somehow this feels like the Sahara desert when it used to be a jungle. Or a house in the American Southwest fits too. Love your interpretation of this event. Has the quality that I would wonder if it fits better in a dream then in the world. Maybe that's where it would keep happening, the shrinking infinity. -Yoni

Charmaine Chircop

Date: 5/31/2009 2:17:00 PM

wonderfully penned--charma

Janice Herzog

Date: 5/30/2009 1:27:00 PM

Dear Cesar: Very well written, and descriptive too! Love you word choices. Thanks for reading my poems, I' so very glad that you liked them. Love, Janice Herzog xoxo

Anna Andersen

Date: 5/29/2009 2:30:00 PM

thanks for the comments i'm glad you liked um. and this will make you laugh. . colors, i did that because my English teacher in 11th grade told me there was no way i could write a "good" poem about colors. so i did.. oh. mom and dad was an extra credit thing in 9th grade. and enough about me. you are a very good story teller and writer yourself. you have sooo many of them.( that's good because that means you enjoy doing it) - i just wish i could read Spanish- i think those would be good too

Debbie Guzzi

Date: 5/28/2009 12:58:00 PM

nightmares....keep coming until the conciuos gets the subconsciuosess point..try Memories of the South & To Be or Not to Be..I think they'll strike a corde. Light & Love and better dreams

Cecil Hickman

Date: 5/27/2009 11:42:00 PM

so many losses, your words show the destiny of them and the salvation as well,destruction of a home is a terrible loss,,Thank you for reading and commenting on my poem,,blessings..Cecil

Edward Orozco

Date: 5/27/2009 8:57:00 PM

Awesome use of imagery! Keep on posting we yearn to read your work! - jeremiah

Justin Hensley

Date: 5/27/2009 2:06:00 PM

It is true how they are gone in a flash like this! love you imagery and a great poem!

Sajdah Al-Riyami

Date: 5/27/2009 1:30:00 AM

Jojo:Poem from The heart<3 Lovit' And i also have lost my home back in Oman(Google it)In the cyclone Guno(Google it Too).Tc,C

Carolyn Devonshire

Date: 5/26/2009 10:24:00 PM

How awful that homes are lost this way, Cesar. You have described the effort to reclaim the buried home very well in this thoughtful write. Love, Carolyn