Thursday, September 1, 2016

September 1, 2016 Poets United/Conquest

Conquest

to conquer             to win                                       the cold wind blows

whispers threats          danger lurks                        the light fades

so you say                  you won                               but what was the prize

you open your hand    the butterfly takes flight       your hand remains empty

the breast of your coat        covered with shiny metals           you are alone

the cold wind          finds entry beneath the door              the fire in the hearth

spits and spatters       put on another log             winter comes early this year

September 1, 2016



6 comments:

  1. You have drawn the mood in this poem to perfection. The image of the butterfly being released, the empty hand remaining, the cold coming under the door...winter coming early......A gorgeous poem, Annell. One of my faves.

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  2. "you are alone" seems to be the prize of conquests...so many nice images here...

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  3. Perfect questions! And the empty hands along with the medal-laden chest makes the empty lonely cold echo.

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  4. you open your hand the butterfly takes flight your hand remains empty
    ..love that

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  5. Those metal buttons feel cold against the butterfly wings.. I suppose it is hard to keep a butterfly in our hands. I wonder if that is conquest or release..

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