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Poem of the Month for March 2008 |
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Hi Members & visitors to the “Poem of the Month” of our site.
We have selected two poems for March 2008 & besides the poems being great pieces of the work the editor has a special repore with both poets. Firstly Collin in his passion to write has shown beautiful flair & style. We can definitely watch out for his name in the World of Poetry.
And then we have Claire a VERY special young lady with talent beyond her years & if she pursues this beautiful gift of writing who knows where we will find her. The editor & staff at Whisper Poetry congratulate you both & PLEASE keep up this wonderful work:
Stan Almendro ~ Editor
Falling Leaves
He sits under the shade of the willow tree.
Wrinkled hands shaking as he reflects on a time that used to be.
With a patch on the knee and both the sleeves.
To whom will he tell the story of the falling leaves?
Murmuring to the wind of when he stood proud.
Even those days under the darkest of cloud.
Worn down shoes kicking loosely at the rich soil.
A time when every lives task is to toil.
Misty glazed eyes lost in the distance.
Every sense in his being absorbs the surrounding fragrance.
Memories of the moment when love was found.
To when it was laid to rest in the same autumn ground.
When was the day, when dad was his name?
And pure love burnt the brightest of flame.
A humbled soul, stepped on by many.
Man amongst men that never begged for a penny.
How mush wisdom has come to be?
Trapped in this soul for no one else to see.
A falling leave hears a song out off reverence.
To rejoice for this man, is a heartbeat in silence.
By Collin Shrewsbury
DEAR SHAKESPEARE
Dear Shakspeare,
Thine roaring mind to me
Soundith like the buzz of an insect.
The tragic events that occur
Are dimmed by soft writings.
Your language, dear Shakespeare
may be bettered with care
of a thousand intellects slaving
for a year.
Time likes not thee 10 syllables,
Nor thy witching fear.
You life is dead and yet still
Your plays appear.
A historian, methinks
Shalt suit better your role.
The softest coat of mink
Still not lessen the toll
Of death and misery which appears so frequently.
Dear Shakespeare,
Turn in your stone if you shall
But know you this,
A play as a book, shall never truly be
And thou harmony
Is a discorded note to any.
By Claire Heginbotham, 15 years old at Reddam School in Cape Town
Written February 2008
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