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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:18:42 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 12450
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Pearl Velvet Night
[time] => 2003-02-11 22:00:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I gaze through the window
Suddenly green from the chestnut trees Glowing in the mid-afternoon sun I am sitting in Morroch Lounging in one of the stiff-backed chairs by the table I am alone Just me and the room It is a wise old entity and allows me to be there I feel embarrassed and grateful. I am 17. We walk to Douglestone Wood after midnight Down through old Millguy sleeping Down Main Street the clouds skudding gypsy caravans and pirate galleons in our eyes The moon a glowing pearl haunted by clouds Around our heads the cool still stars We enter the wood up the little lane Past the green-mossed pillars Winding slowly up through the wood Jim talks of the one-eyed watchman His wild rages a legend Thoughts of chasing us in the dark Being caught too scary to dwell on The wood remains from the old mansion’s park Green sweeping lawns still bounded by long weaving lines Of black iron fences, fallen here and there as if drunk Swirling around us in the night Breathing deep of the sharp cool air We walk to the ruin dark and grey in the night The mansion stands hoary and ancient It’s still present elegance we would like for ourselves So young and rough edged and innocent we are The crumbling sophistication still lingers Envying it we feel it is kin To us and our young bohemian ways Built on trade in the long ago when shipping was easy money The mansion stands before us Though not much easy about the journeys In clipper ships through black storms to the Indies And beyond Through wild hurricanes Or frozen to the flagpole in imagined black nights All is silent among the watching trees The clipper ships now resting in far off seas Flung out around the world or discarded deep in the nearby Clyde The cloud galleons move gracefully overhead Drifting elegance reflecting in the path-bordered lake Bullrushes rustling in the cooling breeze Make us sleepy and yawning Scattered again back home in our beds We’ll dream the stillness alive once more Under cover of a dream-filled night What we have is passing slowly but surely Like a wreck slipping beneath the waves A dark shadow beyond saving Falling, falling Before finally resting gently on pillows of sand and silence Sparky, afraid, runs home Frightened of the skeletal trees and the dark and old Mick the watchman We see it through, curling round at last to a homeward path Three long-haired, long-legged dreamers Moving toward the dawn Eyes shining, soft pearls in the night Blissfully unaware of the coming day [comments] => 4 [counter] => 177 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Steeleyes [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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