MEMORIES
Alone he stands in reverie,
no sloughing wind disturbs his thoughts.
His fertile mind a dormant bed
wherein its deepest cellars lie
the recollections of his past.
And yonder by a thorn hedge gap
the aged elm its roots now spread,
like giant hands on mats of moss
where once he played his childhood games
recalled as memories pages turn.
Descried in easeful harmony
from this sequestered sylvan spot,
the winking lights beyond the trees
where luminous mists of smoke emerge,
describing where the village lies.
Within its welcoming embrace
on lichen coated ashlar walls
up high the mullioned windows where
on nights like this once flowed
his mother’s gentle soothing vowels.
A step away a key stoned door
and set beneath a sconce therein
where first he saw her aspect there
in cloak and bonnet, scarf and gloves,
before a mirror framed in gold.
Still he can see her shadow there,
a silhouette of her fair form
reminding him of feelings past.
A childhood dream now lost in time
by cast of die of destiny.
Michael Edwards (c) October 2015
-
Author:
Michael Edwards (
Offline) - Published: February 22nd, 2017 03:06
- Comment from author about the poem: After the limericks something more serious plus another of my watercolours - Bradgate Park.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
Offline)
Comments7
The slow pace of line makes such a peaceful flow to this read Michael - - poignancy mixes with country stillness as the past creeps from each stanza. A fine duo of beautiful picture and poem.
Thanks Fay - your kind words are so much appreciated.
Thanks MICHAEL for a perfect poem and a perfect picture. You pen & brush are in perfect harmony ~ delightful ! BRIAN
Thank you Brian.
Lovely way with these words Michael.
Thanks WBL - for me poetry is all about stretching words and symmetry - hope I've achieved these here.
Well written and expressed
thank you Tony.
Welcome
A wonderful poem. Very descriptive. Goes lovely with picture!
Thanks Christina - so pleased you liked it.
I have to agree with Fay a bit, I love the flow of your words in this one. As she said, the pace seems just perfect for the portrayal of his reverie. It gives the reader time to ponder each image and to reflect. Loved it. - Phil A.
Thanks Phil - you're so kind.
Beautifully written.
Cheers Augustus
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