written looking out of car window at the beautiful mists over the countryside...

Discussion in 'U.K.' started by nattyjuggler, Apr 24, 2007.

  1. nattyjuggler

    nattyjuggler Member

    The Old Shepherd of the Mist

    In quiet creeping stealth with ghost footsteps
    He creeps
    Shuffling up the stairway to the hills
    Stumbling, spilling,
    Rolling out the carpet to cushion his blistered feet,
    Tired, so tired when he reaches the top,
    He collapses.

    All kept calm wriggles free,
    Flooding into forests below,
    The taste of freedom on its tongue teases
    Sweet melodies tempt its ears
    Calling like the harpies spell

    Awoken it shivers, stroking its hair
    Combing it out upon the fields
    Vain of its cruel beauty,
    Charmed by the song of the clouds
    It dances in its mirth
    Knitting with needles of moonbeam
    Its scarf thickens
    Growing longer with each stitch
    Denser with every breath

    Though age withers him and sleep beckons
    One’s duty is not forgotten
    He plucks the strands of pale silver
    Tempting them to his loom
    Skilled in his art
    Weaving his silk like the spiders web
    Smoldering the embers with the lullaby of light
    Silently to slumber
    Sleeping with his singing whisper.


    xxx
     
  2. Isil

    Isil Member

    :eek:

    Wowza.

    Thats a really great poem.
     
  3. Peace-Phoenix

    Peace-Phoenix Senior Member

    Love the imagery, reminds me of Blake's 'Songs of Innocence'....
     

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