Evening voices

For the dverse open link night.


This evening the sky dripped red sunset

From billowed orange cloud,

And the birds in the hedges were silent,

A huddled feathered crowd.

This evening the sky was a torrent

Of flames that left the earth cold;

In the wind I heard the shrill voices

Of the children who never grow old.

They stroked my cheek with pale fingers,

Leaving icy trails of my tears,

And the restless sound of their laughter,

Will follow me down all the years.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

38 thoughts on “Evening voices”

  1. Both tender and tough, this one puts me in mind of the thousands of children still in Trump cages, and the thousands of more on route.

    1. Ah, you got it 🙂 I’m pleased. I was alluding to Yeats’s Children of Danu. Supernatural children are unsettling, not to be pitied like real ones in distress.
      I don’t sing either, I’m not allowed. Wish I could though.

    2. I agree, I also felt the chill of fairies in this, good catch Theresa, and Jane this is a strange mix of being lush and chilling, like Fairie. The hushed birds brought Goethe’s “die Voegelein schweigen im Walde” (birds are asleep in the trees) to mind for me initially, but then as dusk deepened, it pricked darkly quickly. Don’t trust the man with thistledown hair. 🧚‍♀️ 🧚‍♂️.

      1. Thank you, I’m pleased the mystical element came across.
        I never read Jonathan Strange. We had a copy and I always meant to read it, but it must have got lost in the move. Thistledown hair is very magical.

      2. It just looked so heavy! But I’m reading Hilary Mantel’s A Place of Greater Safety, and if I can hold that, I can hold Jonathan too 😉 I don’t know anything about a Beeb version, and don’t have the means of getting hold of it, so we’re safe there 🙂

  2. I am impressed with the way you let the images speak rather than making direct statements. The “dripped red,” “huddled” birds, “cold” earth, and “shrill” voices convey a message without needing to explain it.

      1. yes there are days the words create new phrases in my head,a lot of it originates from unfinished business with ourselves i suppose

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