Unsung.

 

 

Unsung.

 

Each season bequeaths measured remembrance as landscape
slides from sleep to resurgence.

Winter's kiss does not leave the white throat of rooted fingers
death-locked beneath frozen earth.

 

Spring never neglects to coat earth with flowered embraces of
paler courtship's poppy touches.

Summer's fierce arms heat to a crisp with frenetic passion for
blitzing neglect of grave-marked hush.

Autumn's relief calms as colourful carpets spread with leaf-fall 
bidding the brave to rest again.    

           Former lost unions bestow no relief until love discloses diverse             
seasons of unsung vibrations.  

Reviews

[barleygirl]

It would seem your poem implies that each season is not guilty of having an unsung vibration & I love how you express the intentions of each season in fierce determination. But to look over the whole of seasons going by, I can see how the vibrations would have an unsung quality . . . it's the way we focus on the season right before us, forgetting about whatever ones have recently flown by (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Fay Slimm]

You discerned the message and thanks a load Margie for your considered review on Unsung. Huggles.... Fay

[Neville]

.. a most poignant and fitting requiem .. sadly, such a pleasure to read ..

[Fay Slimm]

Sincerely appreciated your read and review dear friend.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This is very relevant to Remembrance Sunday as you paint the seasons and their personalities in all their glory and colours.

[Fay Slimm]

Thank you John for your visit and review of an effort to compose a seasonal remembrance of those who never returned from foreign fields.