Patricia Cresswell Poet Free verse

A Gandeur of Skeletons

a grandeur of skeletons

old poets stroll again 
among the trees.
they seek the perfect word
like the lost chord,
or the fountain of youth.

stillness waits 
for footsteps sound
there are none to intrude.
old poets of light and shadow 
search beyond mortality.

forever in November
all that means to haunt
will rise in silent throng
to go about the unfinished 
business of life.

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Silent One September 28, 2017 at 9:14 AM This is a deep write that moves the reader.. profound write.. Patricia Cresswell September 28, 2017 at 1:27 PM Thank you Silent One. I wrote this because I am always looking for that perfect word which will give the perfect description.

Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart September 28, 2017 at 9:03 AM A haunting quality, your words slide in like breath. Wonderful pen :) xomo Patricia Cresswell September 28, 2017 at 9:14 AM November just sets that mood for me. It is naked before the gods. so even wraiths find it hard to elude visibility. Thank you Maureen.

Russell Sivey September 28, 2017 at 4:29 AM You write such deep writes my friend, I love that, incredible! This poem feels so real, I was creeping out! I really loved reading this illustrious piece this morning! What a remarkable poem, Great Work!!

Old Man Emu September 28, 2017 at 12:39 AM This is a great write Patricia, made me feel a bit melancholy for some reason, indeed the perfect world is as you described, a lost chord or fountain of youth. Who wants that anyway. Regards, Craig Patricia Cresswell September 28, 2017 at 12:48 AM Craig funny you should say melancholy. When I was writing the poem every thing was grey in the picture in my mind. Thanks for pointing it out.