Dear child, hearken now
Thy thoughts hear wilts
Thou forget
The tempest thou bore
In thy song ever more
Now sing thyself asleep
With no wind or bird
To answer thy cry
Now search thee through the night
Till dismal bongs awaken thou slumber
I’ll sing thee a song
A song of the bread maker
And the song of the weaver
The song of the sailor
And the song of a tea maker
Dream thyself asleep
But hark! the words of a song
The words of a world still spinning…
Comments
"the words of a world still spinning" ...
Loved. It. One of your best poems, I think. (PS, I liked that you mentioned a tea-maker...)
..........
This really blew me away!!! It sounds soo book-ish.... very story-ish.... LOVED IT!
************
The Holy Spirit is the quiet guest of our soul." -St. Augustine
Ooohhh, I like. Thy, thee,
Ooohhh, I like. Thy, thee, thou are all great words!!!
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond
I was hoping it would go on
I was hoping it would go on and on, I liked it that much. :)
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief
Oooh... *shivers* This is a
Oooh... *shivers*
This is a poem that definitely requires at least one re-read - and I LOVE re-readable poetry. The lines "Now sing thyself asleep" and then the last verse were particularly haunting and resonant.
Come to think of it, you could build an entire story off of this...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Brother: Your character should drive a motorcycle.
Me: He can't. He's in the wilderness.
Brother: Then make it a four-wheel-drive motorcycle!