My words drop silently into the abyss of time
Vanishing into the swirling mist of rhyme and no-rhyme.
There is no echo here
Nothing to show if my words reached their mark
Or dissolved in the hungry dark.
No way to know if the poem broke apart
Into meaningless lines.
I wait for signs of acclaim or rejection
But the abyss offers no reflection
Of disdain or approval.
A removal of soul
An absence of heart and direction
Like messenger birds
Lost in a polar shift
Adrift in the wild and endless sky.
The abyss gives back not even a sigh.
Only silence greets my offering
© Susan E. Birch
Excerpt from the book Ancient Whispers
About the Author
When Susan was eleven years old a teacher, knowing her love of Literature and History, gave her a copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare and a poetry anthology both of which changed her life. When she opened the book of poetry it naturally fell open at a page on which was a poem called ‘The Cloths of Heaven’ by W.B. Yeats. She read it and was stunned as it was the first time words had actually drawn a picture in her mind. Later, reading the book of Shakespeare, she found Sonnet 18’ and found the answer to why poets wrote poetry. From then on she was an avid reader of poetry and fell in love with the classical poets.
Visit Susan’s Author Page At: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/susan-e.-birch-.html