The Whispered



~~~

Memories hang heavy

Like Spanish moss draped

Over the gnarled boughs

Weathered by the voice of years

Fed by long forgotten tears

And traced in the wounds

We are all the whispered here

~~~

Visions rise like smoke

A pungent scent seen

Stung in blood-shot eyes

Burnt in the sepia lost

Paying the highest cost

And placed within the tombs

We are all the whispered here

~~~

Darkness beats the anvil

With a farrier’s skill

Drummed to war

Bodies of the broken

Names left unspoken

Now echoes in the gloom

We are all the whispered here

~~~



Comments
10 Responses to “The Whispered”
  1. We come from a family who excelled at whispering, because saying something out loud made it real….

  2. DC Gilbert says:

    Great poem, Brad. It brought whispers of Loyd Alexander, Tolkien, Cornwell, and even Beowulf to my mind. Do you mind if I share it on my blog?

  3. DC Gilbert says:

    Reblogged this on D.C. Gilbert and commented:
    Brad Osborne’s poem over at commonsensiblyspeaking brought whispers of Loyd Alexander, Tolkein, Cornwell, Kipling, and even Beowulf to my mind. Check it out!

  4. Jim Borden says:

    the sounds of silence…

  5. petespringerauthor says:

    Lots of sensory words with this excellent piece. I remember seeing Spanish moss for the first time in Florida as a kid when we traveled to the Everglades. It made an impression that still sticks with me today.

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