A bell tolled
through the fog at dusk
to summon passage
across the roiling waters.
Through the mist
a ferry appeared
but not the same as called -
afoul with death and sorrow.
With dread our forefathers
boarded ship and listened through
that storm filled crossing
to howling wind sung requiems
echoing from distant fields at
Manassus - Shiloh - Gettysburg.
When the gales had spent their fury
they disembarked in a new land
with both far less and more
than they left on the opposite shore.
March, 2008
Smooooooth, crisp & tightly constructed work, Robert. Intriguing storyline...Solid crafting. ~ FjR ~ ..2008..
You've loaded this one with the weight of history Robert. Every line carries its emotive burden to perfection - concentrating the years, the costs and the lessons. Marvellous poem sir! It must rank amongst your finest. jim
The bell tolling through the fog at dusk resonates with this reader. Very compelling and beautiful Robert. Warmest regards, Sandra
This reminds me of a voyage across a difficult time or event and yet when you'd reached the other side you had become stronger for it Very passionate writing Robert...well done! Love duncan X
With Audette, Frank & Coach. Definitely, Robert. You have style about you, eminent and sublime. best care, susan jane xx
Wow, loved the sense of trepidation and otherworldly atmosphere you created in this one! -chuck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Images of Charon and the river Styx between your lines...nice write...Coach