Treasure Island

Caroline Misner


Disappearance


The hills have drown in olive drab
like the soldiers spawned from this land,
and bristle beneath a crown of trees
and thrust their arteries into the spongy earth.

The sun has blown its seed and bloated
by the colourless milk-bottle clouds.
Not an insect or hawk flies near;
this is my opportunity to disappear

into the misty path that zigzags down
the mountainside. There’s always one
last snow that smothers the spring,
and here it comes to cloak the woods.

They have nothing to hide, waiting
for the grey rains of April that cleave
the blossoms from their stems. It’s not me
grinning sickly toward the sky.

I could bury myself beneath this dank earth,
dun as a workhouse mule. It is not Easter
here, in the core of this loam
where nothing wakes and nothing is reborn.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Disappearance by Caroline Misner )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]