Morning Sun/Mourning Son

A Poem By Tamerah // 1/15/2012

A stillness descended like a blackbird on a branch,
like the leaves it disturbed, falling, fluttering, settling.
And light crept, imperceptibly, all at once, growing,
like a tender new stalk in the spring, carrying on its back
a fresh dawn, crisp, crawling, gently proceeding.
The colours were soft, pale blues and greens and greys,
easier on the eyes than the stark, jarring colours of afternoon.
Somewhere there was a horizon, its line glowing with light,
the morning sun stretching its fingers, reaching its rays out
and bathing the world that it loved in light and warmth,
starting with the tree’s tops and working its way down.

The stillness was ubiquitous, it settled upon streets,
it crept into cracks and doorways and brought with it a calm.
It was absolute, and more delicate than the surface of a pond,
waiting to be disturbed, to ripple and echo and lap upon the shore.
The mourning son crouched in the bedewed grass,
blades stooping with their shimmering jewel-like burdens.
His fingers were reaching out, touching the icy marble gravestone,
tracing but not reading the name, instead glancing past it,
bloodshot eyes studying the inscription with an intensity born of grief.
“Beloved father,” it said, and he voiced it out loud.
The stillness broke, the stone had been thrown, the waves rippled,
and the morning sun stretched out and brushed him, lighting upon his hair.
A breeze awoke and wafted in, taking his words
and sweeping them away with the tattered leaves.


Wow, that was really

Wow, that was really gripping.

E | Sun, 01/15/2012

"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond

 The stillness broke, the

 The stillness broke, the stone had been thrown, the waves rippled,

and the morning sun stretched out and brushed him, lighting upon his hair.

For some reason, these were my favorite lines.  It think it is because they put such a clear image of the sunrise suddenly appearing over the horizon, and a sudden soft breeze blowing, and the sudden rays making the mourning son and the tombstone golden.  I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it was wonderful.  You can paint such pictures with your words -- I really admire that. :)

Clare Marie | Mon, 01/16/2012

"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." -Bilbo Baggins [The Lord of the Rings]


The parallels of the two stanzas... great job.

Anna | Wed, 01/18/2012

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief

Ohhh.... gosh. Your poetry is just gorgeous and breath-taking. I'm reading it now. I really hope you get a volume of it published!
I love the idea that "Somewhere there was a horizon" - I'm going to remember that if I'm ever feeling cramped in life. ;)

Sarah Bethany | Thu, 08/16/2012

Some comments brought this

Some comments brought this lovely poem to my attention, and all I can say is: Lovely. Sarah Bethany said this was breath-taking and it truly is. Please keep writing.

Maddi | Thu, 08/16/2012

Goodbye? Oh no, please. Can’t we just go back to page one and start all over again?” – Winnie The Pooh

Thank you!

I feel kind of spoiled by all these nice comments. You guys are wonderful, I can only thank you for reading it and being so kind and encouraging in your responses. It really does make me want to write more.

Tamerah | Thu, 08/16/2012


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