The Turn
The cold sharp wind races through the trees
Howling wildly, the trees sway in unison.
The dark swarms over sky.
In a stream, a light less arm dangles
Halfway above the pure blue water.
But wine streams down the faded arm
Drips
Drips
Into pure blue water.
Blue and wine swirl together in an unholy union.
Blood in the water.
The wine-dimmed tide washes the humane away.
Erodes the light within.
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▾ This Poem's Voice
Your Poem's Voice
Blends personal crisis imagery with abstract philosophical erosion of humanity.
Dense layering of violent imagery, metaphor, and symbolic meaning throughout.
Deeply dark, morbid, depicting suffering, death, and moral dissolution.
Harsh consonants, racing wind, howling, violent kinetic verbs dominate.
Approximately 12 lines; falls within 7-15 range.
Rich metaphor (wine=blood), personification (wind, tide), symbolic imagery throughout.
Pure lyric internal voice observing and interpreting the scene emotionally.
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