On life and its vagaries


with 3 comments



Through the pale Violets of dawn

A traveler was seen slow

Mute tartars were then foraging

In the viscous souls of the flowers

Their faces mauve with the violated blood

And their black hides and swishing tails

Twitching as flies protested at the brutal feast

The muffled tremor distinct and threatening


A dead breeze was hugging the ground

Faintly caressing the torn and fallen petals.

And as they fluttered on the ground in mute pain

The sky seemed to turn its grey visage towards the overhanging cliffs

But they yet stood still with the weight of the sight.

On the far side, the distant hills, unseeing and bluing

Were heaving their bosoms up

Surfacing through the failing mist


There air had turned still, harsh with its bated breath

And the sun hovering over hills now pulsed livid and angry.

As he passed through them, the traveler

Left the liquidators jolting–still for long moments

Their heads rigid, nostrils wide and flaring

The curves of their horns showing fretted and coarse

Their jaws yet working, eyes hulking vast and scared-

The skies spread through the irises, and something dead in them


As he now was stepping carefully through the mushy dents

Made by the hoof marks of the grazing kine-

Some of those still gaping fresh with deep and brownish lesions

And the field vivid in a darkling green, soft and still to his feet

He saw a Poinciana flaming by the boundary, its canopy

Spreading its wings, sheltering e’en the marauders in its shade


3 Responses

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  1. This was chill raising, yet mixed so well with things that are calming usually…splendid, just great images:)

    ~Lady Day

    June 4, 2012 at 7:09 pm

  2. This is a fantasy made poem. Very interesting – beautiful pic. k.


    June 5, 2012 at 12:54 pm

  3. Love the pic and the poem!


    June 6, 2012 at 9:31 am

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