Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

And There Was

Let there be water.

Let it be called pond.

Let trunk and branch and leaf arise around it,

Walling the sky’s mirror against too much.

Let small plump birds paddle its silk surface,

Their calls echoing ancient creation.

Let stiff winged things fly and dart about

Above stiff legged things that skim

A criss cross the water’s top.

And let beneath flash silver through the murk.

Let it rise and ripple and vanish in its other world.

Let sun shine and moon.

Let clouds pass.

Let day and night.

Let wind and rain.

And one morning

When the grass is as wet as water

And sky, trees, soft breeze whisper

Glory, glory, glory,

Let a young man come there

From too much, carrying a rod.

Let him sit, savour, search the deep for silver.

And let, O Lord, who said, "Let it be",

It be that he finds enough,

Is filled and goes happy away.

><>

creationfishingpondstoo much

◄ That Gal Gladys

In the Red ►

Comments

Profile image

Martin Elder

Sun 21st Jul 2019 17:44

This looks quite like an excellent poetical reworking of the book of Genesis. Of course thats just my reading. But a nice poem anyway.

Profile image

afishamongmany

Sun 21st Jul 2019 15:59

Thank you Devon and Ray. Have slightly rejigged some line breaks.
A small jewel of thought then - let it be.
><>

Profile image

raypool

Sat 20th Jul 2019 20:39

This is a soliloquoy for the fullness of nature and its rightness, well expressed in fishing I'm sure. Those that follow it have a peacefulness about them, and this reflects that. A simplicity in the questioning makes it a small jewel of thought.

Ray

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message