The Truth of Smoke

By Chundar

Wed, 17 Feb 2010

4 comments

Blame no tree for falling branches
its just the blowing wind
The windfall on which bonfire marches
feeds the hungry kind

The spring with green shoots
all will grow anew
from dead woods and rotten fruits
the truth will come to view

Charred corpses moulder
in rotting doom
Ash copses smoulder
then sprout in springtime bloom

Permalink Submitted by WillSimpson on Thu, 2010-02-18 08:00

Autumn is a lovely time of year, but nothing twinkles the eye like the first signs of spring, and your poem twinkled mine.

Until we feel our thoughts our thinking remains unfelt

Permalink Submitted by Chundar on Thu, 2010-02-18 13:57

I tried to make fire a metaphor of life and death being the same thing.

Permalink Submitted by shoe on Thu, 2010-02-18 12:27

A lovely take on the forest floor, or life from death,

Permalink Submitted by Chundar on Thu, 2010-02-18 13:55

thanks, glad you liked it