Dying Ground

A Poem by Rosalind Gale

Stretches its sinewy veins, its frail earth dried and boned.
No one walks alongside me,
This path is a tomb.

Black scattered light, that is the stars fused and blown.
Their fading flickering scratches the face of you,
A sore, a bauble that hangs like blood
Dew.

A droplet thickened by all I was due -
These last days you muckle and spit out
Eager little beams,
And I see that flesh was grass.

For you I walk
That I might wither,
Fall.

© 2014 Rosalind Gale

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Reviews

Matthew Kult

Lonesome fatality

Great read

Matthew

Posted 8 Years Ago

Coyote Poetry

I loved the words.
"For you I walk
That I might wither,
Fall."
I liked the way you allowed the thoughts to bring the reader into the understanding of the dying grass and withering of life. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

Posted 10 Years Ago

Lyn Anderson

I cannot say it any better than Jacob did, with the wonderful dark play on words here -- splendid imagery.

Posted 11 Years Ago

11 Years Ago

Thank you!
-x-

jacob erin-cilberto

this is so sad, and beautifully abstract...the idea of dealing with death, either physically or emotinally in a relationship...
love the play on "dew"....

i like the last stanza...i think of the autumn of discontent, the season leading to death and winter.
and the use of "Fall" in two ways...
i fall for you, and it will be my season of leaving...Fall.

you are quite gifted, Rosalind.