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Out of the north a spiteful wind blows in
a grey sky, tears flow, as night chills take hold.
Dry leaves rattle bones into goose flesh skin.
A weight unknown, death heavy on the soul,
lost and confused, mist clouds the view of you.
Trees shadow gloom, yielding to agony
that beats in mind the tones and dins of blue.
Sleet static grates to snow cloaking the trees.
In birth, a chariot of fire aspires
higher into a crisp, clear morning sky.
A pilgrim, inspired by dreams of desire,
in touch with hope, a beauty to the eye.
A tree branch parrots faithful melodies
as the phoenix shakes off the irony.


------
Ailill


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Comments

The following comments are for "Feather fluttering in a tailspin "
by Ailill

a rich tailspin
a beautifully potent concoction of imagery, textures, melancholia and the intransigence of life...thanks for the read!

( Posted by: Shakti [Member] On: October 31, 2011 )

sonnet
I write - IMO - lousy sonnets ... you do not.

Particularly liked the final two lines. Nice to find the finish so entrancing that one wants to read it all over again.

bravo

( Posted by: Pen [Member] On: October 31, 2011 )





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