Poem: The thing not known

By

 

Rock of ages, furry with mossy fingers

halt my paces

I have seen the plums

ready in the orchard

I have seen the plums

long grasses, grey-green, dancing to themselves,

with wheedling cry some bird flies, off a trellis heavy

with rose, laburnum and little white blooms

with no name.

So what was this nameless thing, not known?

Halt my paces

I dont know the what, why and wherefore of it;

Let me take a plum, please.

A plum, please.

 











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* From The Anvil of Dreams, 1995 

 

Hi ! Welcome here to my personal blog �� My pen-name appears usually as 'Omer Tarin' in most searches and sometimes as 'Omar Tarin'

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