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
~~~
commonsensiblyspeaking 
I love the visuals you create with words. I believe when the Beatles wrote the lyrics to “Magical Mystery Tour,” they must have been speaking of reading someone’s poetry, for you take me on magical mystery poetry rides all the time!
This is the perfect poem to share on Martin Luther Kimg, Jr. Day! So well-written, my dear friend!
Please keep your legs and arms inside the ride at all times! The author is not responsible for plucked heart strings. Thanks, Kristian!
Haha! Nobody plucks my heartstrings quite like you do. I will try to refrain from throwing my arms in the air, but I make no promises as I very much enjoy the thrill! 😁
I would expect nothing less!
your opening stanza is very powerful
Thank you, Beth! I appreciate your kind words.
Wow! Powerful, dark and beautiful! Wonderful work my friend!
Thank you, Francisco! I appreciate your constant support.
Always a pleasure my friend and always there.
Superbly evoked
Thank you!
Love the lines about draping Spanish moss compared to heavy-hanging memories. Your poem reminded me of my first trip to Florida, as I had never seen Spanish moss until then.
Thank you, Pete! I forget sometimes that not everyone may know what Spanish moss is.
Dark, powerful and haunting. “We are all the whispered here”—brilliant.
Thank you!