StoneA Poem by JanusInspired by the cryptic and beautiful Medway Megaliths.
My
memory belongs to
that hill, now.
Where depressed, opposite that ominous roar a silent stone waits.
For
what is a mystery.
The blacksmith hammers the truth from Iron.
A drama of fire, and strength. bent to his will the grey iron complies.
But from Stone, speckled moss-green and mute witness to rain valleys, we yield nothing.
Those indents, that gutter cut swiftly into its matter, utters no secret.
And so, soundlessly it waits, sunk in millennial earth, the erratic puzzle.
© 2014 Janus |
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Added on August 25, 2014 Last Updated on August 25, 2014 AuthorJanusUnited KingdomAboutI am a visual artist. I paint and draw and sometimes write things down. I do not consider myself a writer, much less a poet. But I love language and my poems are merely a celebration of that fact. Tha.. more..Writing
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