Sunday, October 2, 2016

North Gate




This wall away --things
Forgot-- is not well-laid.
A weightless thought
Alone can shift stone,
And this jumble of
Memory will lift and
Tumble out to me.

12 comments:

  1. Thanks, Rick. When we moved to this crazy old farmhouse 35 years ago I built a board fence and gate over a tumbled rock wall. It's now a metaphor.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I like the effect of the rock wall against the wooden wall. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a memory attached to each rock and the memories gather together to make a story?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Emma, sometimes I think memories behave that way already --and they seem harder to dislodge as I get older.

      Delete
  3. Very interesting - the wall/gate, the poem, and your reply to Rick!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! There are jobs we do over the years that become symbols in mind --good thing, too!

      Delete
  4. You can create a captivating poem about anything, Geo. I'm in awe.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Robyn, that is the lure and --as you know-- the fun of poetic form.

      Delete
  5. Beautiful and contemplative post, Geo. Love the word imagery and the photo.

    PS As a Wordpress blogger, I could only comment using my old, inactive Blogger account, which I just so happen to have. If you change your settings to allow for anonymous comments I could comment using my current blog name and URL. Thank you! :-) Mother Wintermoon

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Kind Mother Wintermoon, I'm so glad you like my poem!

      [Re. changing settings: I had to eliminate anonymous comments years ago to deal with solicitor-bots that swamped my blog with business back-links. Your current blog-name, with clickable link, has long been in the blogroll of this site. Your name and snippet of latest posts appear in the margin at right of this text. Best wishes, Geo.]

      Delete
  6. What do I do when I cannot bear the memories for sufficient time to throw them out and they continually bear heavily on me? Your stones become my headstone

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Headstones are just where we carve the names of who we thought we were. I suspect existence is bigger.

      Delete

Please, say hello! I welcome your comments, thoughts, even criticisms!