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     7 years ago 

    Raw poetry that speaks of loss. The autumn of a broken country, where even the pigeons of the squares have been disappearing. The relationship between: hero - nation - hunger is interesting.

    The senses are shaken
    for the sad song of the pigeons
    asking for corn
    with bony figure,
    mirror of the nation.

    Decadence without saviors, no breakthrough is glimpsed. There is a kind of conformity with the decline. Only contemplation of the slow fall of the robust tree that was a rich country, now plunged into misery.

    A whirlwind of dry leaves
    falls from the trees
    by a spectral air
    in the shade of the feet
    of the hero.

    Good writing, brother! Quite descriptive and heartfelt.

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       7 years ago 

      A whirlwind of dry leaves
      falls from the trees
      by a spectral air
      in the shade of the feet
      of the hero

      As humans, we tend to the hero worshipping. There is something in us that craves excitement and a chance to prove ourselves, and so we like to also imagine ourselves the hero. We forget some heros are shrouded in death. Me ... I am more of a worshipper of peace:):):)

      A truly wonderful write. Really quite wonderful:)

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