Damp and decaying like timeworn leather, the
wind stirs each fossilized apparition.
Holding fast against the sultry winds of
time; clinging, dependent, on limp limbs. These
creaky extremities reach for silhouetted faces,
haunting shadows with limited life. And in
withered strain feeble fists persevere, while the
sufferings of the season wilt within the crowd.
Littering the pavement like languorous petals,
inky remembrances of rosier days pass on.
In the bleakness of the night with a
shudder and a sigh, wasting away in the wet
rot of decomposing rainbows. Now black
and spoiled against the barren bough.

© 2023 Michelle Cook

 

*Golden Shovel Poetry Writing Exercise
The only rule for this type of poem is that each word of your source poem must appear as the last word of each line in your poem—and they should be in the order that they appear in the original. Your poem will contain as many lines as your source poem has words.

Here’s the poem I chose to use. (So if you read down my poem, the end of each line uses all these words in order.)

In the Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.

by Ezra Pound

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/branches-tree-black-and-white-rain-4621320/