With a sudden thump,

Heavy with finality,

The formless hand of time tosses another trowelful of soft,

Loamy earth atop a small box

Whose contents are forevermore hidden

To the eyes of consciousness. 

The gentle breath of forgetfulness stirs the soft wisps of moist steam

That curl in faint tendrils from the gash

In the rich,



Rain falls. 

Now gentle,

Now torrential,

And the ground forgets the scar

Beneath the choking weeds of regret.  

In a whisper of time,

All is forgotten to dust

And loss. 


4 responses to “Solitude 

  • ONCETreyminator

    Love the “unknown” in this piece. The buried might be sinister, sorrowful or regretful in nature. Love the ground forgetting its scar. Nice!

  • Holistic Wayfarer

    I like this, the ending esp.

    Some redundancy here (wisps aRe soft and steam iS moist and tendrils aRe faint)

    “stirs the soft wisps of moist steam

    That curl in faint tendrils from the gash”

    Perhaps something like “stirs moist wisps that…”

    I know. Feels like butchery.

    Very nice job with the metaphors and imagery. The poem isn’t so HeAvY,

    • dtdeedge

      It’s been a while.

      The redundancy wasn’t clear to me. Now I see it. Inefficient poetry is bothersome. Drat. I’m out of practice.

      The first two lines don’t work together – I think the first ‘with’ might be wrong.

  • extraordinarysunshineweaver

    Interesting comments! Gives me insights on how to look st my poetry, too. But I like how the poem carried me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Mick On Everything

Just a regular guy who is interested in everything

Wherever you go, there you are.

And here I am, Judith Clarke, writer.


Turning Tears & Laughter into Words

A Word From The Raven's Beak

Or whatever I came up with whilst eating cereal this morning

t h i n g s + f l e s h

lyrical essays on songwriting + other mysteries

Syl65's Blog

Poetry, creative writing and a desire to inspire..... Isaiah 40: 31 But they who wait upon the Lord will get new strength. They will rise up with wings like eagles. They will run and not get tired. They will walk and not become weak..

Words are mighty

poems, and poems again

Itty Bitty Journeys

Epic Tales of Tiny Adventures


literary fictions, flashes, fiascos

All That I Love

Because Writing Is Therapy

poetry by skull

The Musings of N. E. Skull


The heart has to be able to act against itself. (m.m.)

A Holistic Journey

Finding my way back out of motherhood -- while mothering

Experimental Fiction

"Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination" Willy Wonka, 1971

Just breathe.

Life is beautiful. And there is so much to be grateful for.

Nathan Blixt

Art, Text, Code, Design

%d bloggers like this: