Along A Roadside Poem by Gary Witt
Along A Roadside
Alone, the morning glories bloom,
And wither in a single day.
Together, their tendrils strive and stretch
In flowering spirals
Along the rusting barbed wire fence.
They creep and crowd
Straight up the creosote-laden poles
That line the highway, strictly measured,
Evenly spaced, and counted.
They reach into the soul of a
Juniper in their path,
Smother it, strangle it
To a resentful frame of pale yellow,
Atop a brittle brown foundation
Of thorns.
Hallucinogenic beauty
Pulsing through the seasons,
Tightening its grip in gradual spring,
Letting go in time for winter’s blinding numbness.
And vulnerable strength is defeated slowly,
With the steady, silent alacrity
That is faith.
A feast of visual images, propelled rhythmically through the cycles of life, ablaze with colour and movement. A symphony Gary! A triumph. A real lesson on a lot of levels to aspiring writers. You've invested in this the care, commitment and pride that reminds of a bygone age: a real tradesman at work! Thanks, jim.
Yes, Gary, a master of your language and how beautifully you paint with words. I have a little vine of morning glories tattooed on my right arm...my favorite flower...wild and sensuous...strong and beautiful...like your poem...
it is a fine thing to be familiar with the colors, all the elements...but that pales in comparison to their masterful inclusion in the portrait painted. vividly memorable. -Tailor
Your observation is too sincere to help the poem with a free flow of suitable and rightly fit-in words...I like the last stanza the most...excellent
very romantic...and love its short srory type expression in peotic way..good experience with innovative way.. your peotry is relatively impressive and this poem is one of best... enjoyed it a lot and hope you never stop feeding heartds with poetic love feelings...well done 10/10
Each line gives the reader a different view, and each one is gorgeous, despite the uncivility of murderous flowers. I can't say enough about this lovely snapshot, except to say that it provokes one to look out the window more often.
A veritable kaleidescope of poetic colour. To build, with masterful stroke, the picture of so much from so little - that's talent. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 12:50:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
a fine flair for language you have which is evident with this poem. the images are tactile and proliferate throughout this piece.