Poem By elysabeth faslund

A russet-etched crone
Crouches in silhouette,
Clinging to memories
Of cradle-gold hair.

Cocks a pale, rheumy
Eye beyond her fire,
To ward off the dark claws
And night-crawling

A scant minute longer,
A life-moment more,
Until, head nodding,
She submits
And sleeps.

(Published in Poetry Nottingham, England./Winner of Poetry Nottingham contest.)

Comments about Sunset

I enjoyed this one. Like going to a museum.
Expertly drawn scene here, full of Shakespearian details. -chuck
Glorious poem. Your crone has charm. A beautifully understated portrait with heart. I'm flabbergasted that more people have not commented on this one. love, Allie xxxx
A wonderful portrait in sepia tones. Every word magnifies its delicate mood.

Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of FASLUND


I am woman and I have borne the Torah on a gold cloth
Over my shoulder.
I have consecrated its dust-leadened parchment,
Cradling the scrolls into temple darkness...


A cat of a cat of a
Witch of a wind!
John's just a patsy!
John's gonna send

The Wonderful Sea

Said merry ole Jane
With a blade through
Her heart, 'Ya seafarin'
Days are over! '

The Glove Thrown Down

Whatcha gonna do
That you haven't

Soap And A Brush

To the lesser gods...
Your fingernails are dirty.
To the higher gods...
Your hair is a mess.

When The Rock Came To Jerusalem

Tell me you were there. Tell me you were sitting on that rock....
Tell me, Messiah.
Quote me the words John and James spoke to you...
Tell me, Messiah.