I am that final thing,

A man learning to sing.

    Theodore Roethke, "The Dying Man"




The Other Side of the Hill

Behind me the way I've come darkens

And goes down; ahead the last light

Slowly climbs the hill on steep stones

Staggered like the slip of canted steps

Of every ruin I've imagined in Rome,

Or shifted in the heave and settle of

Old farmhouses. 

 

                           What endures now

Is the searching for the song to say

What is unimaginable, beyond both

This light and shadow, waiting for me

Just there on the other side of the hill. 

 

 

 





Poetry by countryfog
Read 611 times
Written on 2012-06-29 at 15:56

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Morning Star
I love the poem, especially the last verse where you await that something over the hill, that perhaps transcends the experience.
2012-07-10


Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautifully written
Your words are felt in heart
Thanks for sharing
2012-07-02


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Starkly beautiful as a cold winter's evening, Fog.
2012-06-30



A splendid write, countryfog.
Knowing very little, alas, of Mr Roethke, I hastened to the Google to learn more. Though I have much to read, on first impression it seems to me that here resounds something of his spirit; and as per usual I appreciate your fine wordsmithery.
Applaudeth.
2012-06-29