We left the faintest hints
of Avalon behind that night,
and the road rose away
from the misty coastline,
up into the green hills,
and beyond to the mountains,
rising wild into the
indistinct purple.
We felt the old dreams die
from our saddles, but we
knew enough to ride onward,
never looking back into
the eyes of the night,
into the eyes of the
places we'd once called
home, for dead dreams
don't go quiet, but
haunt the place of
their passing, haunt
in small hours the idle
minds of all who remember
their broken promise.
Even on the downslope
of the darkened and
foreign mountains,
even as we enter the
unwholesome shade of
this twisted forest,
these, the faintest hints
of our bold dreams, doomed
never to persist, cling to
us as the morning
dew clings to the
overgrowth next to
the muttering river.
5 comments:
k"cling to
us as the morning
dew clings to the
overgrowth next to
the muttering river."
I alsways love your word usage and the visual pictures that you create, Patrick. Thanks, once again, for sharing your thoughts.
It is so good to read your poetry again! I'll be visiting more often now that life is settling down once more.
I could really relate to the passage about dreams. They are such an inspiration and such a heartache at the same time, and they do come back to haunt us always to tell us of those things we never achieved.
Beautiful flow of words and great insight!
Doc,
No problemo. Glad you liked it.
m. shahin,
It's great to see you back here. I see you went back and commented on some of my recent stuff. I'm glad you liked the poem. This one was something of a flight of fancy for me, but I'm glad that you could see the more far reaching elements therein.
Again, great to see you back!
Enjoyed this, Patrick. That middle stanza is very thoughtful.
Great start on the story. I like the first line and the progression is good, leading up to a cool ending. Well done. Keep it up and I look forward to the next installment.
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