The Tower

[TRexroth]

The water tower is rusty and leans like pisa.
Frenetic chatterings of leaves surround
decaying musty beams.

These matronly sounds
are the historic gossip channels for
tales that blow in the wind.


In the room below where mushrooms grow
flies shy away from the axe that shines unrusted
buried in an ancient birch stump.

This is what I saw through deserted webs
shimering in the corners where glass used to be.
My awareness included odors of musty beams
and the frenetic chattering of autum leaves.

It included the sonic weavings that the gossiping wind
knitted into the spirals of my audio canals.

The natural collaborative consortium constructed
an imagined history of a withered man in overalls
burying his axe and his own memories in the birch stump
and washing them down with a swig of rotgut
from a long shattered flask.

[Michael]

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. Whoops. Sorry, just having an old moment.

Onomatopoeia, the imagery of allusion and the allusion of sound. You use it effectively a few times here, TRexroth.
The water tower is rusty and leans like pisa.
Frenetic chatterings of leaves surround
decaying musty beams.
It’s particularly effective in the stanza above. What makes it even more effective is the fact that the very same line is repeated later on in the poem.

I always appreciate effective use of alliteration, especially in a vivid piece such as this one.

[e-piph[lol]]

The Tower is a triumph

love this, esp:

"..the sonic weavings that the gossiping wind
knitted into the spirals of my audio canals."

whoa! grabbing

your short story tracks out real long in one's mind.

nice, trex!

[MilesKB]

i like this presence poem, nice use of alliteration in the last stanza; i enjoyed it!

[TRexroth]

thanks to you all, this is a real place
and i had certain imaginations about it when I saw it,
i hope they were'nt too awkwardly worded.