The West of Ireland used to be full of deserted cottages.  Not so now. This 'abandoned' cottage I came across last week. It had a presence.


silent witness

across the field
down the lane
fuschia and honeysuckle framed
you rest
exhausted by generations
grown from seed and egg
long flown
beyond the rainbow
arching 'fore
the mountain's ridge
of gorse, rock, elders,
heather, crags
before you
ice came and went
leaving
huge sleeping beasts of stone
in our fields
standing in your rooms now
where generations born
give way to lambs
and beetle busy turf
stacked for winter warmth
I wonder if you could
would you ask me
if it was all worth it
and what would I say?



Poetry by Peter Humphreys
Read 829 times
Written on 2008-06-19 at 16:18

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Mark J. Wood
What would you say about the occupied new ones?

As usual, I am wordless about the poem but have plenty of feelings. Cheers.

Mark.
2008-06-26


Rob Graber
And this poem has, if I may say, a very special "presence" as well: the poet's!
2008-06-22