There was a wildness to the man
whose hand hammered at the door;
an old familiar order, a command
recognition on demand:
Slid back the latch
while there on the mat
stood the patriach
far... far from home.
Lived peacefully in foreign parts
beyond the pail at last!
On setting out had skipped along the path where
daisies line the route and buttercups may bloom
and yet... there was a day; perhaps an hour
once, of heaven shared:
A country walk, a glade,
savored each mouthful of golden lemonade...
Bewildered, by brutal education
and bleak outlook; a measure of fear, doubt
and harsh neglect
in equal parts
which was preferable - be assured
moreover, on reflection
and in preparation
threw light across the years.
Resentment harnessed, hid and checked
gave way to a regular warm smile of welcome.
Strangely, responsive to that withered soul
in search of rest and comfort;
expectation - to provide.
Then hopefully, making tea
as usual, resistant to the wilderness
and always and savagely returned there.
There are many wonderful things I could say about this poem. The title and first line are very catchy. Each stanza is very descriptive, full of story and then contains one line which seems to sum up everything said and then brings one back to reality; ex.... far from home, savored each mouthful of golden lemonade..., threw light across the years, and making tea as usual. Very beautiful and artistic.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderfully descriptive poem Gillian, a real pleasure to read. Best wishes, Andrew x