It has been raining hard all night and the valley is strung with clouds. This is an old picture but I thought it suitable to decorate a poem I wrote a little while ago and did not get round to posting
Mist Rising
Clouds touch the earth
Singing songs of beauty
Brushing all with mystery,
Roving where they will.
The river moves on,
But the valley stretches
and purrs beneath their touch.
Clouds whisper a sirens song
Of high far reaches of space,
crystalline air, graceful
movement, silver light,
the joy of flight.
Clouds roll their breath
over the mountains shoulder.
Brush round her back,
soft fingers linger.
And then the sky
pulls them home,
willing unwilling,
they must go
And earth is left alone.
Clouds touch the earth
Singing songs of beauty
Brushing all with mystery,
Roving where they will.
The river moves on,
But the valley stretches
and purrs beneath their touch.
Clouds whisper a sirens song
Of high far reaches of space,
crystalline air, graceful
movement, silver light,
the joy of flight.
Clouds roll their breath
over the mountains shoulder.
Brush round her back,
soft fingers linger.
And then the sky
pulls them home,
willing unwilling,
they must go
And earth is left alone.
4 comments:
I was curious as to the meaning of your poem. I noticed you used imagery of the Will near the end and I recently posted a blog that touched on that matter. You can get back to me at http://organicmerry-go-round.blogspot.com/
-Harrison Bergeron
I love your word choice with crystalline air, soft fingers linger, and clouds whisper the siren song. Lovely imagery.
Thankyou both :)
I think meaning is where you find it, sometimes there is none, sometimes it is fairly obvious, sometimes you see what you want to see...
I enjoyed writing this one and was pleased that I got a subtle kind of rhyme pattern too, something that was purely accidental. But serendipity is part of the fun of poetry.
You are a clever so and so!
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