Persephone and The Dead Season

The internal insistent nagging on my soul that yearns for the springtime.

 Gray eyes
That once lit in the sun
I knew it was you
A breath in you somewhere
escaped the chimney
Its empty now
in your chest cavity
where the air 
we might have shared
rose in and through
Out of me and you
You hide in your underworld
Not the same anymore
The girl I knew
Eyes once that spoke to me
Of Persephone and her springtime
You are now the winter
Until her return
from Haides' lair
Penance for a fistful of bleeding seeds
The grain of her and the world we knew
Oh, but what are we to do
But remain cold in this dead season
Til the recrudescence
Of she that grows blossoms here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Ligi.]

aww thanks Travis!

[Travis Lawrence]

Wonderful poem. I love it. You have a strong way with words, and a classic style blended with a bit of playful rhyme. I'm trying to recall a poet to compare it to, but nothing comes to mind at the moment.

By the way, winter is my least favorite season. The gray skies, the fast and chilled winds, the wet snow, the bare trees. It's easy to get depressed until spring comes around.

Have a nice day!