by Edwin Larson
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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In silent thought I sat
the hot wind blowing against my face
and the beast I had tamed
lying at my feet
I looked out at the waters
spread before me
to the mountains far beyond
As the dry wind shifted
it howled into my ears
a song from long before this life,
It blew my long dark locks in front of my eyes
and re-awakened me
to a vision of another place in time
I wondered then how it had ended,
my final demise in that chapter
written so very long ago
I thought of him
who died just two days before
A victim of his own undoing
If there was a heaven or a hell
If this was heaven and he was in hell
and what power one could have from such a place
The beast looked up at me with golden eyes
that reassured me
that in time such places could exist
but for now our lives are all that matter
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|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|WONDERFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by Deborah Munson (Reader)
|Vivid imagery you pen. I could feel the hot wind in my dark locks as well with my heart grasping each line of yearning as you weaved it down to acceptance. Well Done! Deborah|
|Reviewed by Roger Ochs
|Intense. Cathartic (I hope). An extraordinary glimpse into your soul and I salute your bravery in opening like this.|
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|I feel the emotions from within,,, sad heart & thoughts blowin' in the wind.|
|Reviewed by blue soplain
|a beautifully broken write.
mingled with some wishful inking.
|Reviewed by Chanti Niven
|You knew 'him' for nearly twenty years, worked with him, became friends, shared many memories. His death was a shock to me, far more so for you. I know that you handle most traumatic experiences pragmatically and this is no exception but I also know that this poem is a reflection of your inner state...as usual extremely well penned. Yes our 'lives' are all that matters.
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|Intense and strong like the very winds themselves of which you write. The power of thought when it concerns this world and the next is as firece as any gales that can blow sweeping in changes where they are most needed. Well written Edwin...good to see you posting again.
|Reviewed by Mary Lacey, Desertrat
|Reflecting on the death of a friend is always hard, especially dying in that awful way. Your poem touched my heart.