desert love

love is a
a tree
that flowers in
the desert

if it bears no fruit,
its branches
turn to
inevitable dust--

to be blown on
whispering winds
of sadness and grief
so deep,

even angels weep.

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Editing Stage: Not actively editing

About the Author

Country/Region: USA

Favorite Poets: Wallace Stevens, D. H. Lawrence, Charles Bukowski, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Percy Bysshe Shelley, T. S. Eliot, E. E. Cummings, Emily Dickinson, William Butler Yeats, Pablo Neruda, Joni Mitchell, William Shakespeare, Basho, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kelly Marie Hayner, Susan Wydville. D. Phillip Caron, Elizabeth Bishop.

Comments

Frederick Kesner

14 years 7 months ago

you can hear

the howling of the desert wind... harbinger of its insatiable hunger... swallowing all into its sands of forgetfulness... remarkable poem, this.

Victorclaude

14 years 7 months ago

cryptic,

thank you.

"sands of forgetfulness...

would that I could. . .

Victor

Edevold

14 years 7 months ago

I really like your writing

I'm not much of a commentator, but I like this poem... not quite as visual as "a normal day", but thoughtful, and thought provoking...........

Victorclaude

14 years 7 months ago

Thanks for the read, Ed. Not

Thanks for the read, Ed. Not as visual perhaps, because emotions are not of fabric that can be seen, only felt, but have almost a tactile density that lie just beyond the edge of sight.

Victor