Survivors

Survivors

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Along the Boulevard



by Steve King
© 2012

That frigid season had come,
each dawn with a shiver.
He tended the bleak hours
with all that habit could engender.
 
Neatly pinioned in between
things most felt and those unseen,
carnivore’s howl of blistering wind,
roiling sky full Pleistocene.

Despite best efforts not to call
on memories unfit for words,
his ghosts still played a-foul in the air:
intoned the rustle of dead leaves,
songs of whithered birds.


12 comments:

  1. really tangible sounds there in the end...the whithered birds and leaves....and sometimes no matter how we try to fight those memories...they hide in corners til we least expect them...

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  2. Ouch! This is heart-wrenchingly bleak from the frigid season to the withered birds. It's a strong piece of writing, though probably not one to be enjoyed.

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  3. Lovely piece...the memories are always a part of us...hiding...waiting .

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  4. Such a poignant write ~ My heart can break with sadness ~

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  5. Lines 3 and 4. I totally get that. I sense more in this piece than I read into it, but during the winter It is all that I can do to get up and do what I must. It seems to require hibernation.

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  6. O, this is bleak! But so well done....those frozen memories do have a way of haunting..they never melt with the wintry ice...Well done, Steve..I do hope you find some beauty in this season. :))

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  7. fantastic images of the relentless mind -- nicely done and sweetly short

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  8. Great capture Steve, felt the gray chill right to my bones.

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  9. Ah, tending the bleak winter boulevard can seem to go on and on, but maybe he does a little slush jig in his boots and come home to the roar of the fire and some Internet comraderie of word and song. :)

    xo

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  10. This is really lovely - I'd not seen before. I love the idea of trying to get strength/will/bolstering from habit, which works quite well at times. Not always, as you describe - other habits come in too (of remembrance.) Really lovely. k.

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