This was another dark moment.
Scarecrow
Walking along a deserted path
Weed over-grown the grass on either side
Cold water pressing in from the river nearby
Laying a hand to my chest as though to contain the struggling beat
Limbs as numbed as the sticks and straw
The black, lifeless eyes of the scarecrow
Crows make their feet dance
Taunt with their laughter
Just beyond your fixed vision
Could you but uproot the stakes that hold your feet
Raise a raggedy arm that would blow in the wind
Still as a comical statue
Puppet of comic façade
Stitched up by twine and string
Patched and frayed as so many broken places fray
You bleed out through gashes that no one has bothered to heal
Walking along a deserted path
Weed over-grown the grass on either side
Cold water pressing in from the river nearby
Laying a hand to my chest as though to contain the struggling beat
Limbs as numbed as the sticks and straw
The black, lifeless eyes of the scarecrow
Crows make their feet dance
Taunt with their laughter
Just beyond your fixed vision
Could you but uproot the stakes that hold your feet
Raise a raggedy arm that would blow in the wind
Still as a comical statue
Puppet of comic façade
Stitched up by twine and string
Patched and frayed as so many broken places fray
You bleed out through gashes that no one has bothered to heal
You are the silent sentinel that watches over the golden waves
Of this summer sea
Who watches the sunlit sky turn from blue, to gold, to olive green
Then turn purple and sink behind the hills
You are the sky-gazer who reflects the stars in your eyes
And dreams of places beyond
While ever rooted and standing still
Feet on the ground
Head in the clouds
A word to utter would be a tease to the breeze
Undulating the golden wheat and brushing your legs like feathers
A tear to cry would be to taste the rain that drops and bends the fair heads
Makes them cower and hide their faces, streaming in the summer storm
A song to sing would be the whistle of wind gurgling the pond
And whispering through the nearby branches
You are the hollow man
Stuffed with innards far too flammable to the fire of emotion
The storm of passion or the chill of fear
But you bleed…you bleed
And you fall in pieces that are tossed apart by the wind
Gradually ripped apart and scattered to an unknown sky
An unknown day
What is it to you the prick of a needle?
The tear of your clothes
Stitches scarring your face, your hands, your feet
Will they contain you forever?
Or will they eventually burst as ripe as new corn
And spill you out like an offering of gold coins onto the dusty ground
Written: June 15th, 2009
Of this summer sea
Who watches the sunlit sky turn from blue, to gold, to olive green
Then turn purple and sink behind the hills
You are the sky-gazer who reflects the stars in your eyes
And dreams of places beyond
While ever rooted and standing still
Feet on the ground
Head in the clouds
A word to utter would be a tease to the breeze
Undulating the golden wheat and brushing your legs like feathers
A tear to cry would be to taste the rain that drops and bends the fair heads
Makes them cower and hide their faces, streaming in the summer storm
A song to sing would be the whistle of wind gurgling the pond
And whispering through the nearby branches
You are the hollow man
Stuffed with innards far too flammable to the fire of emotion
The storm of passion or the chill of fear
But you bleed…you bleed
And you fall in pieces that are tossed apart by the wind
Gradually ripped apart and scattered to an unknown sky
An unknown day
What is it to you the prick of a needle?
The tear of your clothes
Stitches scarring your face, your hands, your feet
Will they contain you forever?
Or will they eventually burst as ripe as new corn
And spill you out like an offering of gold coins onto the dusty ground
Written: June 15th, 2009
One of my favorites to date.
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