The Wake

Snow graced corn field drest Light limn, sleep, soil rest. Feign death’s root, deep need. Stand with strength and tact. The cold pines for truth. Stalk rows hold space. Shafts beg, warmth, light. Trails mark Spring’s site. Harsh, harsh the light. Rot, ruin, blight, Leaves burnt, clean... by white's dream. Death rises Sun sets. Wake.

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Andrea Dietrich

Date: 2/27/2010 9:08:00 AM

Very interesting one, and the topic you decided to write about too! YOu have quite a way with words, dear one!!

Olajide Adelana

Date: 2/16/2010 2:02:00 PM

u've got a nice trunk for hexa verse. goodluck on the contest

Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Date: 2/15/2010 3:30:00 AM

Hi Deb, I'm thinking...as usual when I read your poetry of late. Thinking is good! Nice Diminished Hexaverse. Smiles, Dane Ann (soup mail)

Yoni Dvorkis

Date: 2/14/2010 4:31:00 PM

Love the dual meaning with death and sunrise.We wake from the rot and ruin to the clean white dreams. that sounds like the kind of cleansing I could use right now.I do apologize for being gone Wise One, I haven't been inspired lately. also I'm putting a book together and it's hard realizing how much editing my work really needs. So far I'm on my third draft but I think I'm getting somewhere.I many finish by the end of 2010 if I'm lucky.Then I'll tuck it away in a drawer forever.hope you're well.