The poem is not a thing we see; it is, rather, a light by which may see.
Everything seems an echo of something else.
Robert Penn Warren (1905-1989) was an American poet and novelist. His received the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1947 for his novel, ALL THE KING’S MEN.
Conflict’s consuming breath
Tomorrow’s sunrise waits
Evening’s beating rhythm
Will darkness be mankind’s fate?
Each hour fails to open
Anger’s agitation
Whispers breeding chaos
Peace scouting for its station
Searching for safe harbor
Bumpy shall be ship’s ride
Echoes’ explosive drift
Stormy waters’ rising tide
Calmness now surfaces
Persistence pays each debt
Voices now standing down
Courageous steps quell each threat
Tomorrow comes about
Darkness has run aground
Morning works together
Blessed spirit at last found
Along every coastline
Lonely beaches listen
Whispering spirit
Morning sunrise glistens
Along mountain ridgetop
Confidence thundering
Whispering echoes
Distant breath wondering
Along valley’s river
Creator’s pulse renews
Whispering promise
Tranquility flows through
Along horizon’s light
Reassurance remains
Whispering pauses
Sun’s setting windowpane
Along meadow’s stillness
Harmony’s joy conceived
Whispering spirit
Nature’s rhythm achieved
Modest home’s hidden treasures
Forgotten for many years
Covered in dusty cobwebs
Docked at legacy’s lost pier
Climbing rickety ladder
Stepping into lifetime past
Lonely attic’s been waiting
Ship’s sails secure at each mast
Granted permission to board
Organized in tidy rows
Yesteryears displayed with love
Past voyages say hello
Quartermaster, our tour guide
Opening one box, then more
Years from long ago, shine bright
Emotions begin to soar
Resurrected memories
Each surprise follows with more
Connecting life’s precious links
Echoes from past come ashore
Blinded with troubles
Still hoping to see again—
Hidden light echoes
Longing to find hope
Searching forgotten places—
Retrieving echoes
Misplaced hope stirs
Blowing in from yesterday—
Echoes ride with wind
Big Sky Buckeye 