A lonesome leaf

· by · in free verse, poetry. ·

Death is less a headstone
than a lonesome leaf, clinging to a bough.
You might leave a wreath;
you might burn the lights;
but true remembrance
is what gnaws your bones and marrow;
Its November sorrows,
daylight lost and ice of morrows.

And deep you bend on knees
you hope for sleep,
you dull yourself with booze
you wait a while cause
death is less a headstone
than a lonesome leaf, clinging to a bough.

Call of death by Kathe Kollwitz

Call of death by Kathe Kollwitz

Stacie is calling for poetry reflecting the seasons at toads. I find the fall to be something close to death, and we are approaching all saints day when lights should be lit on graveyards.
—
October 28, 2016

16 responses to “A lonesome leaf”

  1. Bjorn, thank you so much for participating! Your poem is indeed a dark one, of a dying season yielding to the cold. I feel the sorrow & loneliness in it. The last image of the solitary leaf, barely clinging to life – heartbreaking & beautiful.

  3. This is damn good poetry. That stretched-out “B-ow” was very clever. The repetition is effective in drawing out your intentions.

    “Headstone” makes me think of kidney stones. ~An awful curse to befall a man. Not nearly as nice for the head as say, “mmm-arrow(s).” But you get what you get.

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