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Feb 19, 2023
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This poem is part of the contest:
Neopoem Of The Week February 19th to February 25th 2023
Imperial Road
Tall trees bare and leafless
Standing bald and shaved
None are alike but look equal
Their bony hands bursting through the pavement
Inverted roots thrusting skywards
Branches like gnarled fingers
Claw hands open to the air in protest.
Organic sculptures lining up like guardians
Along Imperial Road
At dusk they glow like white ghosts
Standing next to lamp posts
Seen through the window of a nursing home
On a Tuesday evening in February
Where I have a week to live
In terminal care
About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft
Comments
Geezer
2 years 5 months ago
I sincerely hope...
that this is not your story! I'm thinking that it is of someone that you know or maybe see when visiting another in a nursing home? At any rate, it is a very sad story. Your title is good, the language use very good, as it seems to parallel the twisted and gnarled hands of the elderly, reaching up to heaven and the guardian trees guiding the person to the pearly gates. Nice to see you posting again, ~ Geezer.
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Sen99
2 years 4 months ago
Thank you for your concern
this is not me in the piece. However, I had to write something, just a personal reflection, things have become more difficult recently, just trying to get creative again, write a little poetry about a road
Sen99
2 years 4 months ago
Thank you for the comment
never thought of it, giving a personality to nature, trees are individual beings
glad you found some emotion in this piece, its a feeling I have about a place.
Jackweb
2 years 4 months ago
Is obvious...
you were reflecting on the tree you sighted in a moment. One thing about inspiration is that it could come through emotion or deep thinking about a particular thing.
Poets minds are like a broad band that transmits signals at a wide range of frequencies.
I agree with Ekaterina on high use of personification. These makes the poem stand firm. Nice job!
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Sen99
2 years 4 months ago
Thank you for reading and commenting
I like what you write about poets and broadband, it is like a wifi signal, fine tuning and reflecting on an emotion, all takes time to find the right words.
Thanks
Jackweb
2 years 4 months ago
O yeah!
You're welcome.
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