Well, I never was very faithful in the blogging department, but since I've been at Uni, I've been perfectly hopeless. I took to writing poetry over the summer... a requirement for the course I was doing. And would have enjoyed it, too, if it weren't for the deadlines. This is the one I think is best.
Phantasm
Westward lies a distant land
Where faeries dance ‘pon elven strand
By lee of hill all crowned in white:
A city fair and bathed in light.
A chink into another wood
Where summer’s golden grace’s withstood.
Encastled thrones, the Lion’s breath,
A deeper life beyond the death.
The Alder, Ash and lovely Beech,
The winding road, no end in reach,
The haunted shadow found and lost,
Redemption gained at greater cost.
And down the hill the war-horn cries:
Come thund’ring hooves! Come foe’s demise!
Come flash of steel! Come quick’ning dawn!
Come ev’ry man to goodness sworn!
This call is loud, this yearning strong,
A weighty, trembling, broad’ning song;
Its shafts return to strike anew
And pierce my bursting organ through.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel!
And unto Aslan’s sake as well!
His golden mane, Her glint of stars,
I’ll gladly bear their joyous scars.
2 comments:
far out Jono, I like it. It's an account I can relate to, and yet distant, archaic, and of another realm, - achieved I think, through the gold-lit, unstoppable enthusiasm which just exudes. You know, you could write about such a thing, but it would appear to be nothing more than an Englishman's stilted explanation, limited by his vocabulary and experiences, but this is something else really.
"Gold-lit, unstoppable enthusiasm" Ah! That is well said! Thanks. Then, I've managed to achieve what I set out to do, I think! I'm particularly chuffed you used the term 'gold-lit'.
America seems to be going well then?
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