I wrote this poem when I heard of the story over 50 years ago it has stayed with me ever since
Whispering In The Wires by M.A.Meddings
On the high Shropshire moors beyond the towns of Knighton and Clun there is an ancient Ridgeway known as the Long Mynnd (long mountain) The Post office ran the telegraph wires across the top of the hill.
The Shropshre Moors are the unsung last widerness of the UK and in summer time evenings you can lie in the long grass and listen to the wires 'singing' as they 'cut' the breeze. It is a lonesome sound. Legend has it that the sounds are the ghosts of soldiers killed in the first world war searching for their loved ones.
I did not die
When you thought I did
Neither did I leave as you believed
1 was not a figment of your imagination
I was real, In love
You were not deceived
I called on you in the lonely places of your heart
I was cold, I was heat
I was passion, I was fire
But in the depths of your despair
It was not my ghost you heard last night
It was just the lonesome West wind
Whispering in the wires
Poetry by lastromantichero
Read 2244 times
Written on 2008-05-08 at 07:41
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
workoutrules |
Richard |
|
Saga |
Kathy Lockhart |
Texts |
Increase font
Decrease