Colin Coplin

Rookie - 107 Points (Australia)

The Clouds - Poem by Colin Coplin

Here come the clouds, floating in the sky
People with images, begin to cry
Over the horizon, they gently die

Can you see, the shapes they form
Bodies on fire, crowning the dawn
Silver mirrors, painting the pathway home

Can you see the big bad bear
And the old shoe
The rainbow bridge
Old Man River flow...

Then there's the Sangraal and an old Cross
Two Templar Knights, sharing the same horse
The Widow's Son, a skeleton remorsed
The Mongol hoard unheard

Here comes some eastern ones, some old and mystic ones
There go the Westerlies, crowning a sound
There are simplistic ones, there all imaginistic ones (or are they, are they, are they)
With the coming sunrise to chastise and disenfranchise, there glowing majesties

Here come the Peace ships of 1917
The watchman of heaven, playing at being man
The eighth day of creation, they left buried in the sand
Oh! that unseen hand

Here comes the sun, shinning through
The light clouds and the dark clouds and the high ones and the low ones

Copyright Colin Coplin 1977 (updated 2011)

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 29, 2011

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