Changing Scene Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

Twas on a dark December
laid her neath, naked heather.
In a peaceful highland glen
one I’ll never, know walk agen.

Twas too much thou ask thine.
To abide await awhile thy gone.
Yon lips shalt never more kiss mine.
Tears yon eyes sightless lifeless define.

Swift decendith changing changeless scene
beneath barren peat-brown loom
layith beloved black-haired queen
amid soaring peaks; purple evening gloom.

Sky grew suddenly cold mournful dark
no longer haunting heard; song of lonesome lark.
Inside burns a cold blue bitter flame
know never; I’ll walk heathered hills again.


As decendith dread black rains
splashing muddied puddles rein;
earthen clods whip-lashed like me
turned faced; barren cold grey sea.

As a deadened weary outcast tread
down rocky ledge; I dispossessed stumbling fled;
unaffected by vast wedge weathered rampart barrier
storied rock rears a-desolate; confront cliff’s cleft tower.

Dread valleys narrow steepening steam
awash torrents savagely foaming stream.
Rivers winding shadowy; mist moving; ghostly valley
always alas ahead; lead-on boil; white crested agonies alley.


Seaward flowing seams gouge veined hills
atop wilderness green; cattle-dotted ridges.
Fierce mountain passes glen through woodless foothills
surge runoff overrun; crossed spanning woodland bridges.

Wind flung forth foresails flurried snow
fisherfolk beware; neath white rod bound low.
Sea seeking ships lay abay at anchored harbour
maze of landfall sea lochs; veiled avapour.

Birch logs burn damp cheerlessly now.
At heath-side; aromatic smoke turns dour.
Earthen clods still whip-lashed like me.
Turn I face out a cold; grey beckoning sea.


Copyright © Terence George Craddock