Richard Allen Beevor

(23 March 1949 / London)

The Long, Long Road


On dusty shores the sand of pure delight,
cross hills of life with trees in colours bright,
on a highway with the burden of a heavy load,
in the distance no end to the long, long road.
Though desert mist may delay in my mind I see,
her face so clear coming out to greet me,
across such spiral dreams a thousand prisms gleam,
the weight on my shoulders heavy as the world seems.
Along dirt laid roads of shingle track mind,
explosions inside all sustained or inclined,
of death beneath a tarnished silver vale,
the fearful call from arch-angels.
Colours revolve the corners of my eyes,
neon signs of God in graphic design,
perpetual forms flow through ripples on the lake,
a choice of a route, a way to take.
The painted sky above my head,
the blue breaks through in glowing red,
as a rainbow dies at the crack of dawn,
while fallen leaves look up in scorn.
The rainy days have occupied my passing years,
soaked as grass leads the way for fallen tears,
turn once more to look to the sea,
then the road closes behind me.

There stands aglow a bush yellow and green,
a Kingdom awaiting the arrival of a Queen,
cross one more empty field climb a tree,
an angry bull waits below for me.
The stars this night, pebbles pink and yellow,
in the distant sky a wild boars bellow,
visions creep soft in my mind and I see,
soon new life somewhere waits for me.
In tracks of sand turned dull by light less day,
my sonic eyes reveal a more important way,
a sound propelled the air into my mind,
gales of dust, pain of wind turns me blind.
Alls then well as my eyes become clear,
now knowing the path I must steer,
a hill erect under spiral hay,
no longer lost I have found my way.
The mind awakes as all dreams fall,
my time soon comes to welcome all,
along hedgerows designed in stately green,
no more colours come to blind my screen.

One last turn a bend and then,
here I am at home again.

Submitted: Saturday, May 17, 2014
Edited: Saturday, May 17, 2014

Topic(s): journey


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