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AncientHippie
Member

since 2009-10-15

Posts 411
Surfing the Cosmic Flow

0 posted 2009-11-16 10:23 AM

Like some monolith to a youthful Endymion
the slate-grey sky did not permit
the epitaph etched by strato-cirrus
to be read.

Stark trees, wind-shorn of frivolous foliage,
did cold penitence for their summer follies:
a circadian confession to ensure
vernal resurrection.

Restless, colourless waves of November
marched mindlessly to assault the strand,
implacably expunging the bare and carefree footprints
of Summer.
             *   *   *
His perusal was fond: a lover's caress
fraught with the echoes of past joy.
His eyes drank deeply of autumn's tumultuous brew,
but his heart savoured past vintages.

The echoes swirled in aural and visual
kaleidoscopic patterns:
chimerical memories vying for recognition.

A child, he saw, wading through sun-warmed tidal pools,
spying drifts of mermaids hair,
entranced by magical shells
exploding in profusion about his joyous toes.

Before his eyes the child became a man,
guiding another child
through the mysteries of summer,
through the wonder of the seasons.

A young man, he saw, puzzled and confused,
searching barren streets
devoid of the companionship
of light and laughter.
         *     *     *
The young man, changing, now more assured:
older, but certain in his steps,
sure of his direction
towards some unknown goal.

The old man watched himself, fearful,
loath to follow the path
that led inexorably
beyond his ken.
       *      *      *
His return was slow, a painful trudge.
His wife, younger, bore his Celtic melancholia
with the ease of loving practice.
Bringing his Bushmill's, she told him,
now warmed by the fire, that the children
would be home for Christmas.
       *      *      *

"We are stardust: we are golden: and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden." --Joni Mitchell "Woodstock"

Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis

since 2007-09-16

Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California

1 posted 2009-11-17 01:00 PM

This poem appeals to my "Celtic melancholia" AH, which is, of course, a precious gift for a poet.
Ida

Margherita
Member Seraphic

since 2003-02-08

Posts 22236
Eternity

2 posted 2009-11-18 08:29 AM

Simply awesome, dear Jim!!

To read more than once ...

Love,
Margherita

"Love is the One who masters all things;
I am mastered totally by Love."
(Rumi)

AncientHippie
Member

since 2009-10-15

Posts 411
Surfing the Cosmic Flow

3 posted 2009-11-19 08:30 AM

Thank you, Ida and Margherita: I had written this poem will on posting in Dublin. Living in Ireland, which my ancestors left in 1770, had a profound effect upon my psyche. It was a strong part of the voyage that has made me who I am today.
Slainte
Seamus

"We are stardust: we are golden: and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden." --Joni Mitchell "Woodstock"

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