Return of the Wanderer

There’s a time at night when the moon is full

And the breakers pound the beach,

The world is dark and asleep, the gull

Lies nesting at the breach,

It’s then that the stirrings from the depths

Reach out, like a dead man’s hand,

And shortly, out of the rivulets

There are footprints on the sand.

 

They come ashore and they stand awhile

And they point, this way and that,

Considering well which way to go

As the waves erase their tracks,

Then a breeze picks up and it parts the grass

In a line up from the shore,

And the shape of feet on a farmer’s stile

Are left, till they dry once more.

 

While up on the rise, a cottage sits

With a single faint night-light,

Its simple beam like a beacon streams

Through the tar-black pitch of night,

While deep inside in a cosy room

Sleeps a girl called Carolyn,

Who tosses fretfully in the gloom

As she dreams the words, ‘Come in!’

 

The footsteps up from the field below

Stand still at the old front door,

The lock is rusty, the hinges swing

For an inch, or maybe more,

The wind is moaning and soughing now

And the door is soon ajar,

As the footsteps enter that sacred place

Under the evening star.

 

And Carolyn lies and moans aloud

As his death invades her sleep,

Since ever the depths had formed his shroud

All she had done was weep,

The footprints stood, facing her bed

For an age it seemed, they kept

A silent vigil, there by her head

When she woke, the sheets were wet.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

After leaving here to take a walk on the stuffy side of authorsden and the feigned professionalism of folks who are only published because they paid to secure attention for themselves, it is such a refreshing and wonderful thing to read your moving, touching, and compelling poetry once more ...

This piece is beautifully penned, while tragically sad in its message of a lover who return home from sea no more ...

It brings a tear to my eyes, not just that this piece is sad but, that you have received 1695 views, to date, on this great poem and only 29 people took the time to tell you they appreciated all your fine effort ... It truly is discouraging times for writers of any genre in this video go fast, got no time but for Facebook and Twitter age in which we live ...

My proverbial hat is off to you!

Marv

[ANTO]

Another Wow from me to words from you DLP!
Were the sheets wet from the harsh sleep or maybe from the crying of poor Carolyn or maybe even from the sharing of the bed with her passed on lover? Thats up to us, the reader of course to decide - and we may read this three different times or as many, and come up with a different hypothesis depending on what we bring to it at the moment of reading. For me, this morning, they shared the bed - made possible by the strength of their love which overcame all, even death.
Brilliant - I never tire of your work David.
God Blessyou my friend - always and your pen.
:))

[anonymous]

I loved how you mixed storytelling and poetry so well! Thank you for sharing with us.

[andrew mitchell]

david, great storytelling, great poem. love the imagery. andrew

[Marie]

I got goosebumps when I read this, although that's possibly because I'm sitting in a draft...

Some very eerie images...the dead man's hand...footprints on the sand...footsteps at the old front door..and the silent vigil...

[LJW]

There are very few poets that come to mind that can write this way.
The combination of storytelling, vivid imagery, unique wording, expansive use of language, emotion...very impressive writing. Just the highest compliment to you for this spectacular piece of literary and visual ART.

My favorite bit. Have seen the wind do just this many times:

Then a breeze picks up and it parts the grass
In a line up from the shore,
And the shape of feet on a farmer’s stile
Are left, till they dry once more.

Exceptional.

[MomzillaNC]

Dreams of the love Death has stolen. Is he really visiting her? Or is it but a dream and the sheets are wet from tears cried in her sleep? A touchingly haunting and tragic tale you've woven.

[R Smith]

nice tale of love lost and ghostly visitations, would make a decent play for TV, turn your hand to plays David ?

[Lizardo]

Its a fact David that I like your writing because they are narrative poems, and I love those kinds of write where I could picture things in my head in such little and fine words.
This is a good poem, I really enjoyed reading it.

[emmajoy]

Hauntingly beautiful. For me this is a man returning home - yes in dead form but desperate for his place and love. Can't help feeling that when the day dries those sheets, there'll be a feeling of trust in the afterlife. ' Even death cannot part us, 'cept only the forgetfulness of the living spirit. ' (Don' know who said or wrote that)

For me, this poem centres on the faded one, not the sleeping woman ..

'Then a breeze picks up and it parts the grass -- In a line up from the shore, -- And the shape of feet on a farmer’s stile -- Are left, till they dry once more. '

As always you capture place, time and person in super-fine metre and sensitivity. Thank you for being in the Cafe, mr. Paget.

[Mac]

This is haunting. I love the imagery and the emotion behind it. Your tales are captivating and I look forward to reading more of your writing.