Somewhere in the edge
in a dark forest in ancient Germany,
I will finally find peace
in the earth washed clean of its blood
and plowing of tears ...
At the end of summer ,
carrying in my luggage
the wisdom of age ,
several books of magic spells
and also a bold seadog's
meerschaum pipe .
I , who do not smoke .
Just to get a taste of the story
and not forget my Robinson soul...
I would like a land
bathed in infathomable swamps ,
populated by water nymphs ,
few indolent fauns ,
and even an alluring enchantress...
Abandoning my emotions
to the journey of the seasons ,
mixing some italian wovels
in german winters .
Poem, swallowed up in a lake
forgotten by time ...
An old wizzard telling me
these legends of the world beyond...
The nostalgia for my lost youth
and past loves will return to me .
Prelude to the fragile sweetness
of a late september afternoon...
Ignored by the solitary passer-by,
you,heartbroken lover
who has no regard ...
Under the damp moss
of the great oak tree of life ,
I would rest .
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: August 8th, 2025 09:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
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Comments2
The setting is one of depth and feeling. Despite the location I sense Arthurian legends here and the lady of the lake. It gives the feel of Sir George Frasier's recounting of the King of the forest from (The Golden Bough) In this sylvan forest magic and myth mix with history. A lovely write
'' The lady of the lake '' Was one of my first blog posts .I find this link with some (very) distant roots .
The whole poem feels as if it were written on the breath of autumn, in the rhythm of falling leaves. It's the poetry of the last ray of light gliding down the tree trunk before the day fades away.
I see that you have an interesting seasonal analysis !
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