called spring


This awful discloser of shame



Pristine whiteouts
ondulated every furrow
sugarglazed every irregularity
covered
silenced
obliterated

but all the while
the debris of the world
silently fell
sunk
bided its time


and now
the nemesis
rises earlier and earlier
higher and higher
merciless
discloser
of the smut
of the world


must snow
go away
in such a miasma
of our filth
falling from the skies
there seems no other way


the burried debris
collects the sunshine
melts it faster
from within


a parable of life
we age and diminish
because
of the debris
within







Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 469 times
Written on 2010-03-12 at 09:50

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Phyllis J. Rhodes
Never thought of Spring in such a way. Normally we are happy to see signs of Spring, which is what is happening here now. But in this metaphoric piece, its destruction of the cover we've had of the ugliness in our lives, brings a completely different view and could be developed into a powerful sermon.
2010-04-01