My year-long odyssey into the various styles of poetry has taught me many lessons about myself. I enjoy getting lost in the world of rhyming words. There still isn’t one style of poetry I would choose as my favorite to write in. July is the perfect month to create a selection of free verse poems. This style of poetry has no rules, which I find liberating. They don’t have to rhythm, but I suspect mine will rhythm because that is how I roll. One of the poems I plan to share during this month of free verse is To Still a Whispering wind.
To Still a Whispering wind
I hear their gentle voices whispering,
They moan, welcoming, winsome words.
In the fresh breath of the spring breeze,
Rustling in the lush green budded leaves.
Their voice is the tantrum in the storm,
And the tornado’s terrible and dangerous form.
I hear them in the hot, humid haze of the static summer,
In the sticky heat, they quietly murmur like a lonely newcomer.
Tender words that caress the towering trees,
Whispered words to bring me to my knees.
In the crunch of the vegetation scattered on the ground,
Screaming in the brilliant explosion of fall color all around.
I hear them in the winter blizzard’s howl,
Sounds that linger and silently prowl,
Past the lonely lodges of the women
And the council fires of the fathers,
They echo in the silence of the freshly fallen snow
Talking to this distant daughter, telling her which way to go.
Sometimes I think I would like to still,
Those mournful murmurings.
And sleep the uneasy sleep of the coward,
Who does not listen to lingering voices.
But I realize this is the path I must travel,
Until I set by the council fires of the fathers,
And dwell in the lonely lodges of the women,
Adding my voice to the whispering wind.
Who is Molly Shea?
Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh. To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.
Be sure to follow Molly on Twitter!