(Coming Back to) St Bridget’s Kirk

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Open Poetry #49

(Coming Back to) St Bridget’s Kirk

Pete_W
Member
Posts 185
Scotland (UK)

0 posted 2015-11-25 09:07 PM

(Coming Back to) St Bridget’s Kirk

The day has slipped down,
tide slows,
rings and overlaps
into eddies and shoals,
waders, even the gulls are quiet.

A page of my journal
lifts with the wind,
I sit amongst stones
barely remember the shape of my words,
where the last line fell.

The big elm,
through which unreachable stars
would switch on and off
as a branch moved,
as I moved,
as a leaf fell
louder than the sea,
has gone
and I wonder where it’s ashes lie.

November 2015

JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

1 posted 2015-11-25 10:45 PM

"as a leaf fell
louder than the sea,"

That's one hell of a falling leaf. Even so, I get the message, and it is fantastic one to behold. Nice write.

~*~ When they give you ruled paper write sideways. ~*~

ice
Member Elite

since 2003-05-17

Posts 3404
Pennsylvania

2 posted 2015-11-26 12:37 PM

Well done...I can feel the motion in this poem, and I like to be moved this way.

"Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance."
Carl Sandburg

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-16

Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA

3 posted 2015-11-27 08:37 PM

enjoyed reading this...james

Mr Martini
Member
Posts 366
Beneath The Line

4 posted 2015-11-28 11:55 AM

A calming meditation in my own environment Pete_W. Your appreciation for such things in yours is well related.

Here's to you and here's to me and should we ever disagree, here's to me!

rainyday
Member
Posts 304
Heartland USA

5 posted 2015-11-28 09:59 PM

Pete, I could feel this, & that's an awesome
thing in a Poem.
Pensive read, well done.

Cari
Member
Posts 411
Englnand

6 posted 2015-12-07 11:04 AM

This reminds me of sitting alone by my special lake with rod and line, which is just a mere excuse for being there. Sometimes reviving memories of old affairs like returning to a small café off the Rue Leriche where they played Violette’s old songs and listening with her to Piaf and Charles Trenet once again. Soon I’m humming La Mere to the birds and the bees. They don’t seem to mind.

Once again good poetry stirs the kaleidoscope of memories. Thanks Friend.

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