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"ochred" poems
The years have slowly stretched out In the dry space of the heart Dust has gathered Dreams of joyful music Of barefoot boys and maids stringing garlands of flowers While children giggle These images fade into the unreality of foolishness And now my dancing girl lives far away I only hold her electronically I can see but not touch In the secret place of the heart There are only graves Mausoleums of love Fading pictures Faces turned away Silence and remorse Now I step slowly In dry rocks, broken by sun and wind The light is flat, glaring Tongue swollen It is not the heat that lessens my hope It is not the sullen hissing of broken stone It is the horizon never changing Unrelenting dry hills Even the color of crumbling ochred rock Is unchanging What had been a vague fear Is now visceral There is only death here An ending Surely somewhere there is moisture A brackish pool A muddy well I dream of water splashing Sprays of kindly blue A shy deer bending down A hint of green in the vastness of empty brown Maybe a small bird Some sense of softness, tenderness No Even the light is fading now Like Eliot, I wonder Is there someone beside me, unseen an unknown companion? Only illusions I suppose So blindly the journey continues No direction, no real goal But the stumbling walk itself is all.
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Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 5:37 AM UTC
gary-gibbens
Water
The years have slowly stretched out In the dry space of the heart Dust has gathered Dreams of joyful music Of barefoot boys and maids stringing garlands of flowers While children giggle These images fade into the unreality of foolishness And now my dancing girl lives far away I only hold her electronically I can see but not touch In the secret place of the heart There are only graves Mausoleums of love Fading pictures Faces turned away Silence and remorse Now I step slowly In dry rocks, broken by sun and wind The light is flat, glaring Tongue swollen It is not the heat that lessens my hope It is not the sullen hissing of broken stone It is the horizon never changing Unrelenting dry hills Even the color of crumbling ochred rock Is unchanging What had been a vague fear Is now visceral There is only death here An ending Surely somewhere there is moisture A brackish pool A muddy well I dream of water splashing Sprays of kindly blue A shy deer bending down A hint of green in the vastness of empty brown Maybe a small bird Some sense of softness, tenderness No Even the light is fading now Like Eliot, I wonder Is there someone beside me, unseen an unknown companion? Only illusions I suppose So blindly the journey continues No direction, no real goal But the stumbling walk itself is all.
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