The tall pine trees cuddle
The old graveyard like a child
As around the tombs they huddle
Whispering all the while
Through long needled tongues.
A canvas of greenery overhead
Ever reaching toward the sky
Whispering soft green prayers for the dead
No one but God knows why
Or what was said.
Their whispering voices call
Until their tongues are brown and raw
And the brittle needles fall
Then all is still.
And their naked branches kneel
Tongueless on the hill.
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Reviews of "Soft Green prayers"
Reviewed by Elizabeth Anon (Reader)
Reviewed on July 2, 2006
Excellent, thank you. This is my favourite so far *smiles*
A Viconian Cycle/ Babylonian Captivity Memory Silence Re-Founding of Southern history out of Dublin GA and the KBPS7 Trial. In psychology this is a Wounded Pride case.
Experience the early 20th century in Michigan's Upper Peninsula through the artistic camera lens of J.W. Nara, one of the Copper Country's earliest professional photographers. This collection of historic photos brings the "Copper Boom" era back to li
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Symbological wonders of immortality in the "Soft Green prayers".
I salute You, Poet.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU