At Evers Creek, behind the redwood barn,
a mystery still travels on by near and far,
like the rush and rip of the Creeks dark hole,
as it did the night it swallowed twelve Souls;
'twas no one that anyone spoke to or knew;
merely just by-gone's like the wind that blew.
They were quickly buried at Anselm's Field,
named for the Monk, Benedictine, and he'll-
be the only Soul and Saint who can speak;
'bout the perish of twelve at Evers Creek;
'twas an icy-veined service, nobody cried;
'twas blood-cold indifference, personified.
FjR MMXVIII
Wow! CONGRATULATIONS! I have already read this poem earlier and given you 10 marks in rating (vote) . This is my re-visit. We are glad seeing this poem again as the member poem of the day. Today is your special celebration day. Let us call you in the name with your title of honour today dear poet sir Magnificent Mentor Frank James Ryan Jr (FjR) . We are wishing you all the best. May God bring joy and fortune for you.
I like Bharati's interpretation of your poem that reads like a ballad. Congrats on poem of the day. For some reason if makes me think of that song Wildfire.
The indifference of death to those who do not lose. 'twas no one that nobody really knew'.
Frank, thank you for honouring the memory of the 12 who perished. And for reminding us all to never be indifferent. This is the kind of poetry that truly deserves the honour of being presented with Poem Of The Day. A Hearty Congrats!
ADDITION: TRULY MACABRE and MYSTERIOUS we al must regard this as hauntingly serious. I cite here your last two lines, Frank, 'twas an icy-veined service, nobody cried; 'twas blood-cold indifference, personified. This mystery was never solved, I reckon.
By near and far behind the redwood barn a mystery travels and this mystery is amazingly perceived. You have expressed your brilliance in this excellent poem. Only Soul and Saint can speak about the mystery and evidence. Thank you very much for penning this lovely work my friend. Congratulations!
How did the twelve perish at Evers Creek? That is the question which the poem asks, but does not answer. To drown in a creek is unusual. Saint Anselm might know the answer through mystical insight-perhaps. Why was their funeral so cold and impersonal? A fine poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An on-the-edge-of your-seat, goosebumps inspiring poem. And a recognition for Member poem of the Day by someone who definitely earned it- - you! Congrats, Frank!