A song for the innocent loner,
the plough-hand and fish-boner:
his slow pipe
lowers as he listens
to his own voice, broken through dreaming.
The call of some other flesh awakes
in his dry mouth, where a smile breaks -
the hunchback hills
climbing to the sea-line,
where his silhouette walks sometimes,
leaning, wandering, aching, self-singing
in his head, eremitically ringing,
pondering the shapes
of coin-bright stars,
and rain like shillings spilling into the street.
The dance of a derelict breeze
passes his face with infinite ease:
the splash of a limb
on the solitary rocks.
He looks about; baskets on cobblestones.
You've really got inside the head of this man...shown us pictures with your words. You never disappoint, Stug. This is another of your excellent writes. Top marks. Again. Love, Fran xx
This is brilliant, love the 3rd stanza especially, the imagery is sublime, can just see those shillings spilling down the street. You're making your way up Mr Jordan, everything you write exudes class.... HG: -) xx
A gorgeous, impressionistic and revealing piece S. Love the title, too. t x
Your bring your subject evocatively to life in this wonderful piece filled with the tang of salt and the sound of seagulls. Such unusual images 'the hunchback hills climbing to the sea line' and such warmth in the telling. I also like the structure of the piece - it rolls with the swell of the sea. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxx
You combine rich language and striking imagery to bring this wonderful piece to life. The gently lulling rhythm and unforced rhymes help set the mood and tone of this atmospheric write. Love it. Justine.
excellent work here Stug, well balanced with the elements and appropriate use of modifiers make this a great read. I particularly enjoyed the senory image in strophe 3. Enjoyed this immensely and thanks for luring me into your stash. Bernie
Your poems touch the core of me. You have a way with words... phrases - it's a gift. I can visualise each scenes... keep it up!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
After reading the poem, the loner is still walking before me as described in the poem. The description about him and his surroundings is super and realistic.