A New Mountain Range Lines The Horizon Poem by William L Roberts
A New Mountain Range Lines The Horizon
A new mountain range lines the horizon,
Black against the rising sun's golden sky.
My dog pays it no mind
And though I know it for illusion,
Just clouds from last night's storm piled high,
Certainly just illusion,
I still think of unhooking her leash
And setting off into the unknown:
To trap furs in some clean valley
To stake a claim by some fast flowing stream,
Perhaps to find a golden city
Peopled by credulous primitives
Whose first Middle American am I,
Perhaps to stand on the highest point, my Darien,
And look across an uncharted glittering ocean.
Our six feet turn from habit for home.
She's never once looked at the sky,
And knowing it illusion,
I bid all hope, goodbye.
Sometimes those clouds on the horizon do look exactly like mountains. Nice poem that uses that image as a base for the powers of the imagination. True, your wise dog knows they're just an illusion, but then a whole lot of life involves things that are not quite what they appear to be. New mountains are exciting, even if they are made of clouds, not rock. Enjoyed the poem.
I enjoyed your wanderings and beautiful description. Was disappointed in the ending. 'I bid all hope, goodbye.' I hope this isn't true. Everything begins with a dream. One dream leads us to another even when not satisfied.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 6:15:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The illusion of phantom mountains on the far horizon satisfies this reader! Whether dreams are better than reality is debatable. Who would write of things dreamt of if there weren't readers to enter into the dreams that poets construct out of gossamer!