When you go to the bottom of the well
In sadness scrabbling the deep ooze and
Mud scrambling around below
The talk then is of the climb back up but
There are sometimes valuable things down there
Peopled from times past
Reasons to go down
The echo of words spoken of those who went before
Their history hopes and dreams now spent for themselves
But cast there not to be weighed down and hold fast the present
But given for us to find
A safe ballast
With twisted golden torc through free
To other lands
Our future theirs
Their dreaming hands wrought twists
Living longer than flesh
Dreaming remains
Golden summer or winter night
Livings loud delight
Wow! This is very good and has wonderful depth, no pun intended. I love this analogy.
Thanks Sandy – one of his better ones!
Wonderful!
Cheers
This was haunting.
I thought so to your Ladyship!
Love that twisted golden torc image: it conjures up so much and transports us straight back to ancestors. A feeling of ancientness…
Thanks Kate.
Hi
Thank you for following my blog, my friend! I hope your visits in my blog have been and will always be an enjoyable experience!
You write good poetry up here, so please keep penning and keep inspiring! Thank you again and have a lovely day!
Subhan Zein
Thanks Subhan!
the things we find in our past that comfort us…
Once again, a stirring piece. GfB is lucky to have someone as talented as you on the writing staff, Sir.
Agreed Guap, agreed.
Dreaming always remains… right to the end.
Paul you poetry is amazing – very moving – hoping this is my old friend Paul xxxx
Catherine Burke who worked for EXTERN Hi if its you, if not Ta for the sweet coments.