by Khalil A. Cassimally
–
Lakeside Shadow: the poem
It's greyish up there
The mood is rebarbative
The silence is creepy.
The once green grass of the hill
Is covered under layers of snow
As white as a sick patient's face.
The goats that used to graze there
Are all stocked at the farmer's
Left behind is only a corpse of a deer
Half buried in whiteness.
In the hill's shadows
Lies a lake
Now ivory in colour
Due to the depressingg winter times.
Ice flakes, half melted
Are still floating on the translucent water
A branch nearby
Is meanwhile drowning.
In the distance
Cries and children sobs are heard
And dark smoke from the chimneys appear.
The village is glum
No kids outside, no cars horning
No movements, except from those
Of a wanned, hoary dog.
Across the alleys of the village
Newspaper sheets are hovering around
Carried to and fro
By the chilly wind.
Windows are closed
Blinds are raised
Curtains are pulled.
From time to time
A dog's howls would be heard in the distance
Or a baby's whines would be caught.
Rain is pouring
Watering the flooded lawns
Immersing the village
Deeper into the deluge.
A tramp sits in the shelter of a shop
His thick greasy black beard
Covers his face
A bottle of whisky is in his left hand
To warm him a little
Then he stands up, laughs madly to himself
And runs off in the unmistakable mist of nothingness
His whisky in his hand.
Zooming out of the alleys
Backing away from the village
But returning to the lake
The miserable translucent lake.
Where suddenly
The jaws of a gigantic creature
Followed by the monster's body
Appear from the water.
The creature walks out of the lake
Making its way toward the village
Leaving behind the connection
Between the lake and the village,
Its footsteps
Anchored in the white snow.
–
Note:
- This poem was written more like the lyrics of a song, which could go along with Lakside Shadow, the ambient tune, composed by blogger Wil Wheaton.
- Download: Lakeside Shadow (right-click and save) by Wil Wheaton + The True Lakeside Shadow (right-click and save), me reading the poem aloud (sound quality is kind of poor to be honest – hosted by sky media).
- Check out Poetry Thursday and cry your heart out every Thursdays. The concept is simple: share poetry on your blog.
Hi,
Wecome to Poetry Thursday!
A poem full of beautiful metaphors …
I liked these lines..
“The once green grass of the hill
Is covered under layers of snow
As white as a sick patient’s face.”
It’s so dangerous to build on simple to be verbs, but here it is all about placement and placing, I think. And with a word like “rebarbative” so early in a poem, I’ll follow it almost anywhere. Thanks!
Such a beautiful, evocative poem. The village reminds me of some desolate places I’ve visited. Well done!
Hey abbhay, Jim and Paris Parfait,
Wow, I’m overwhelmed by your comments people. Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.