"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Sarah Copeland
She lives in Gabriola Island, Canada
Her blog: Questions in Black and White

Originally posted on Every Photo Tells A Story
for the word prompt shown here.

Among Fallen Furs

Standing silently
I almost forget to breath,
a graveyard of old trucks
among the fallen fur trunks
each rusted spot bearing
another tall tale, each growing
a little more with every storm,
for their voices my heart mourns.
But to silent contemplation
I return as shadows turn crimson.

Posted with consent of the writer.

5 Comments:

  1. CLAY said...
    Ah! Sarah my dear, wonderful piece
    "I almost forget to breath,
    a graveyard of old trucks
    among the fallen fur trunks
    each rusted spot bearing
    another tall tale, each growing
    a little more with every storm" simply amazing---to grow with the destructive fury of a storm. This is putrefaction in reverse dear; the creation of a graveyard with the image of growth. My brain itches. Bravo Sarah.

    Ever Yours,
    Clayrn Darrow
    WHY said...
    Beautiful!! Each word paints an image in my minds eye. Your writing is superb!
    Small Footprints said...
    That was beautiful ... I felt I was standing there ... seeing the images.

    Thank you for sharing this!

    Small Footprints
    http://reducefootprints.blogspot.com
    Anonymous said...
    this is pure poetry: "But to silent contemplation I return as shadows turn crimson."

    carol
    K.Lawson Gilbert said...
    Sarah - WOW! I have stood on the "same ground" many times - in the hills of WV, the farmland of Ohio. You captured your (and my)ponderings perfectly with skill and heart!!

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