Fires woke and excited the beast
Roaring in a blaze.
Night curling around dark poles
Eyes intently gazed.
Lips so pure; an Angel descended
Lightly touching down
Afraid of nothing, no need to be
As day broke all around.
Visions of a playful glen
Peaceful animals, babbling stream
Walking with a certain gait
Midsummer’s healthiest dream.
When the leaves began to fall
You looked away again
Turned your head and said out loud
Mountain, why you growing so tall
But in the Autumn air
You blew the wild rivers afar
Into the foggy glens
Where the wild things went to sleep
But your so gentle feet
Touched not a rock upon the steep
Calling out to soothe each leaf
Cresting at the moon
For your harvest basket took you
From the meadow to the birch copse
To the little brook to cross
Where your harvest basket grew
But silently up so high
Mountain sighed and sighed
Why do you stay so far
Maiden from afar.
Glen to glen
I’ve wandered brooks
Searching for my
Crag with a hook
Little, though
My hearts dismay
Could effort swing
Precipice lay
For o’er lain land
My hoof she ran
Like orphaned seeds
Autumn’s light breath
Dagger be given
To the laughing lady
High atop as a
Clever tight rock
For no path could be laid
No gorge to ford
No eye to twinkle
Amidst sun-lit wrinkle
Now guide thee home
Pulse in thine known
I hear the clean broom
And dear Mother’s boom
As I sat in patience at a corner of my walk
Two oddly shaped pebbles looked back at me
As if saying: “All is well, all is good, have peace my brethren.”
To my surprise, illicitly, a tree sprouted up about.
It’s trunk was wide, a perfect brown peeking out from vertical alcoves
That suspended my thought – my memory – upon our mother.
I took notice of curled leaves brushing against my knees,
In sweet peace, in tranquility; gentle cooing of a romantic lover.
Her sweet embrace casually led me down sloping grass to a calm pond
Tickled by weeping willows and lily pads saying: “My, what a fine day, stay a while.”
So I stayed. I watched loons and swans swim endless loops – mindless to my observant eyes,
Finally settling on the same well kept slopes I rested upon,
Filled with little paths serving the gentle commotion.
At once I noticed clambering of little soldiers
Setting into order all disorder in a huff and bite.
So I took my patience back a padded path to where I had found my pebbles to bid them a good day
Carrying on, all the better, for my foray into the glen.
When wanderers showed me another decision,
A lane up ahead lifted options adieu.
Where once was a path littered with madness unforgiven,
Turned swiftly to a road which lost was a given.
Down, through, and past ghouls where I roamed
A length I did witness had I hardly been borne.
Beyond intents, beyond deliberation
I was lost in a path for forever ambition.
Launched into desires like a reflection upon me
I shared all I had with a widow of seven.
She laughed at my folly through havens and glens
That caused me much heartache of which I’m still shaken.
I was laughing at the tragedy I’d been witness,
In all of my givens I was never victim,
Save only of dreaming eternal desires.
Here was my folly; deeper than madness,
Here was the road I had swiftly been given.
To which [luckily] my stars had been lifted to heaven
Aloud as I lay beneath all these twilights.
Then at once – without warning –
As I kissed my last maiden goodbye
I witnessed what I had openly given.
Shared with my gallantry: a picnic in the glen,
A light long been forsaken.
Here I was dined like a royal brandy-wine
A Mister to a noblette, a guru to affect.
Like my littered path of madness unforgiven,
I was handed a chance of a rosy countenance.
Here I was left as if struck by forever,
Struck daft by the eyes of life’s fairer.
So out of my lands I had mended and mined,
Through wild abandon chalked plenty with lust.
I found I had seen what’s never forgotten.
Here I was. Here I decided. And here
I lept at the chance to grow fond of a maiden.
In the glen; wild roving stallion,
I paused to stretch my limbs.
And when dismounting my hairy beast
A chorus of chick-a-dees sang to me.
To listen intently I spread my wings,
Laid myself low, enjoyed with the breeze
And over my head did fly all at once
One hundred black sparrows gathering their young.
Where butterflies fell over lazily my outstretched wings
And careless little flies found my warm skin.
And I on my back with my eyes to the sky
Watched clouds float on by; lazy summer breeze.
Long grass swayed as the warm sun spied between
Kentucky Blue, Fennel, and Orchard
Which my stallion munch on unceasingly,
“Chompity chompity chompity chomp.”
A soothing repetition with each grass pull; roots.
Up again, off again. Forward on was I!
A creek to be over! A fence to be had!
This glen of that glen, and fields in between
A small pond, a homestead, a row of red oaks.
Then after the huckelberries there’s a lane off ahead,
Then I’ll be home, my family’s ol’ stead.
A Lancelot trumped my bourgeoisie
Gallantly racing from glen to glen
His head held high on Concorde
I beg of you Sir, lay easy my hem
When my lover waves on, forever, amen
And if the glen should turn away
To cobbles and hurrying; death I say!
I sing still loud my songs of love
Ol’ songs I sang while as a lad
O’er the fields of hidden heather
Note: this poem is in response to William Antcliff’s poem Hidden in the Heather.