Breaking before our eyes into a sound,

as whoosh and swish of the ocean tide.

In constant as rhythmic strokes

branches crack and are thrown into the stream.


I stood among the trees and watched,

immobile in the cooling shade,

the leaf surfaced, face up beneath the bridge.

Woooh, the wind howled,


Cut limbs falling, the crack they make,

each dropping from its trunk as though for once

the last branch of winter made us trim.


Lost for violence of mid-air branches,

soft current dragged on as wind chimes

blew at the stretch of the dam.


Wading water into land, downward

as the deep blue sea, at times where

the light reflected a bend.


Slowed the surface calm waters,

evergreen trees lined the banks of river,

as natural forces contained the seed of life.




The windows are blown out.

Abandonment offers silence,

our yard grown wildly immeasurable

in green, red, yellows, and browns.


Long recollection of a story roars out.

Sagging doors creak, left ajar, stuck in hinges,

we meet halfway.


Closing the door to those that left for good,

ways of going away, leaving our forsaken home.


We used to have our meals and slept upstairs,

the wooden floor makes hisses at us.


Spiral staircase leads us nowhere now,

quiet whispers we murmured before bed,

shhh – everything is truly silent.


by Samantha Seto


Samantha Seto is a writer. She has been published in various anthologies including Ceremony, Soul Fountain, Blue Hour, Carcinogenic Poetry, and Black Magnolias Journal.

Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud