Note: No profile exists for this entry - most likely it was deleted.
Defter hands may set them right
and glancing eyes, in checking, might
observe a moment handed on and
wonder where the rest have gone,
as if by sleight of hand they sleeve
those hours we do not perceive;
or drag them like a wooden plough
through one interminable now.
Particularly like that last line.
The `sleight` and `sleeve` fit it okay...but the
`plough` made me long for for a `cleave` in it
somewhere. :)
A fine example of the job of a poet - making us see mundane things with fresh eyes.
Travis Brow
Thu 15th May 2014 15:44
Thank you Cynthia, i think it might need some tweeking though, so watch this space.
This is really good, downright quotable. That first verse is an instant 'catcher' in its outstanding imagery and thought; and then the second rolls right on as a splendid ending requiring reflection. I salute you, Sir.
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Travis Brow
Wed 28th May 2014 07:36
Thank you M.C, thank you Harry. This is an old poem that I came across recently while looking through some note books. I re-wrote it and posted it here; I'm not sure about it so I thought I'd gather some opinions.