S
Skipling
Guest
The grey wind whispers tales of loss,
You listen lost in lanes of moss.
Your lonely ramble leads you back
To memories of those you lack.
You search in vain for velvet mauve,
The shadow dance of Cedar Grove.
To speak a thousand words in thought
Would never win the war you fought
And lost in silent winters past.
Your love first come will be your last.
The grey wind whispers your regret,
The unseen path remains a threat.
Through trees of darkness you are led
To revelations on a thread.
Your dire search on trails of love
Torments the roots of Cedar Grove.
In greener days the mind controlled
What sought to love, to have, to hold.
Erect with fear of being found,
Your heart grew still and made no sound.
The grey wind whispers from the north,
Your fortitude should now spring forth;
One final chance to seek out sense-
The chance for soonest recompence.
Is mind in vain? The question drove
Your withered frame through Cedar Grove.
This search could occupy your years.
A lifetime spent confronting fears
Would be a brave and noble choice,
For one so late to find your voice.
The grey wind whispers sweet lament,
Your taste for it is all but spent;
But steel resolve and iron hope,
Will laminate, and you will cope.
From peasant's yard to meastro's cove,
Your search goes on through Cedar Grove.
You're only ever what you see,
Through sheets of rain, subjectively.
Endeavour for your fire growing,
The flame of self awareness knowing.
They grey wind of the northern soul
Is crying for your afterglow.
Untie the knots, mutated reason,
Emotions move through every season.
Make good your work in wintertime,
In knowledge, being, growth divine.
I wrote this back in 1997. Rediscovered it not so recently, then forgot about it. I was quite young when I wrote it, and wore my love of Blake and Poe on my sleeve in terms of flavour, but it's one of those things that was like a little keepsake for those days. It just seems appropriate to my state of mind now, as much as my state of mind when I wrote it then. Time is amazing. Or is that a-maze-ing?
The last two stanzas are new, so it's a cheesy remix now. :P
I promise I will never put another poem on this forum. I have now retired!
You listen lost in lanes of moss.
Your lonely ramble leads you back
To memories of those you lack.
You search in vain for velvet mauve,
The shadow dance of Cedar Grove.
To speak a thousand words in thought
Would never win the war you fought
And lost in silent winters past.
Your love first come will be your last.
The grey wind whispers your regret,
The unseen path remains a threat.
Through trees of darkness you are led
To revelations on a thread.
Your dire search on trails of love
Torments the roots of Cedar Grove.
In greener days the mind controlled
What sought to love, to have, to hold.
Erect with fear of being found,
Your heart grew still and made no sound.
The grey wind whispers from the north,
Your fortitude should now spring forth;
One final chance to seek out sense-
The chance for soonest recompence.
Is mind in vain? The question drove
Your withered frame through Cedar Grove.
This search could occupy your years.
A lifetime spent confronting fears
Would be a brave and noble choice,
For one so late to find your voice.
The grey wind whispers sweet lament,
Your taste for it is all but spent;
But steel resolve and iron hope,
Will laminate, and you will cope.
From peasant's yard to meastro's cove,
Your search goes on through Cedar Grove.
You're only ever what you see,
Through sheets of rain, subjectively.
Endeavour for your fire growing,
The flame of self awareness knowing.
They grey wind of the northern soul
Is crying for your afterglow.
Untie the knots, mutated reason,
Emotions move through every season.
Make good your work in wintertime,
In knowledge, being, growth divine.
I wrote this back in 1997. Rediscovered it not so recently, then forgot about it. I was quite young when I wrote it, and wore my love of Blake and Poe on my sleeve in terms of flavour, but it's one of those things that was like a little keepsake for those days. It just seems appropriate to my state of mind now, as much as my state of mind when I wrote it then. Time is amazing. Or is that a-maze-ing?
The last two stanzas are new, so it's a cheesy remix now. :P
I promise I will never put another poem on this forum. I have now retired!
