Sometimes you lose sight of the path, or perhaps
it was never really there.
I was once asked why I sometimes write in the second person.
My answer was (and still is) that I hope, for some few readers,
'you' is indeed a personal pronoun.
You come to a fallen tree, not oak but something
Softer, especially now, nothing left but the trunk
Split open and rotting and the bark thin as paper.
And on it lichens are writ - green, red and purple -
Shapes like the schoolroom map you remember
Where China was orange and Africa dusty brown.
But this stream isn't like the blue ribbons of rivers
And all the places that seemed so easy to reach
Are farther and harder than you ever imagined,
Standing here now in the middle of the woods,
Staring at a map of nowhere you've ever seen,
Alone and more lost now than you've ever been.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 571 times
Written on 2010-11-25 at 14:17
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it was never really there.
I was once asked why I sometimes write in the second person.
My answer was (and still is) that I hope, for some few readers,
'you' is indeed a personal pronoun.
The Lay of the Land
Not quite lost but looking for somewhere familiar,You come to a fallen tree, not oak but something
Softer, especially now, nothing left but the trunk
Split open and rotting and the bark thin as paper.
And on it lichens are writ - green, red and purple -
Shapes like the schoolroom map you remember
Where China was orange and Africa dusty brown.
But this stream isn't like the blue ribbons of rivers
And all the places that seemed so easy to reach
Are farther and harder than you ever imagined,
Standing here now in the middle of the woods,
Staring at a map of nowhere you've ever seen,
Alone and more lost now than you've ever been.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 571 times
Written on 2010-11-25 at 14:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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John Ashleigh |
