The Land of Grimney - The Illustrated Adventures of Cora Pearl, aged 12

By the beck he sits, his back to us
As he rhymes his lines of love,
Weaving his art with words from the heart
While the Pike stands guard above.
The Pike and I hear night-birds fly,
See stars and watch them roam,
And yonder a friend whose love he will send
To the one he left at home.

The Pike and I hear dancing waters
Rattle rocks to flow on by;
To him those sounds are bedroom-door knocks
And his woman’s gentle sigh.
The Pike, as ever, is patient with me
As I soft-breathe rough harping riffs.
He hears no harp but imagines her face
Laughing from deep shadowed cliffs.

The last post I play - farewell to fair day
And the Pike pulls on dusk’s last coat.
He wards off the night with Duracell light
While he checks over all that he wrote.
Now we sit for a while as hot tea makes us smile
And he speaks out the lines finely rhyming.
I wonder if Wordsworth and Southey both wrote
After spending a fine hard day’s climbing?

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"Never look down on a man unless you're helping him up." Jessie Jackson

Your poems have wonderful unfolding stories. They capture my attention

Love this, used to be a climber too!

Redvilst you never disappoint!

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Nydas
http://www.walkerbroad.co.uk
http://www.thesanitycompany.co.uk/