Skies rise ever higher there.
Menacing clouds cluster
Massing grey above the heather
Undulations of the upland.
And coal black peat,
Stones in cloughs and runnels
Reveal the bones beneath.
Places where people live
Languish in white haze -
Villages and cities
Startling grouse and a mountain hare
Floundering up there,
Late one afternoon in April,
I came across a bumble bee
Inspecting gorse and bilberry
Amid fresh buds of purple ling
Where peewits and sweet pipits sing.
Oblivious of me
Going about his business
Industrious as... a bee.
Descending from the moorland
Along a shooters’ track
Loomed ghosts of ancient quarries
As I was heading back.
Those brooding moors
Rolled like a swelling sea
Featureless and friendless
Oblivious of me.
Very moving. For some reason it reminded me of the body that was found in a peat bog. He laid, undisturbed for a long time until he was discovered. I will have to look him up now.ReplyDelete
Nothing to do with this post but thanks for the tip of "unorthodox" on Netflix. It was excellent!
Oh good, I am glad you also enjoyed "Unorthodox" Christina.Delete
I once saw "Tollund Man" at the museum in Silkeborg, Denmark and have often thought of him.
Were you in a sombre mood when you wrote that YP?ReplyDelete
I think moors are quite sombre places JayCee.Delete
I was back on Top Withens again hoping to see the Brontes and having a pint with Branwell in the Black Bull. Super poem YP.ReplyDelete
Branwell liked a bit of opium too. Did you also partake - maybe in The Gents?Delete
The Old Apochethary I think where he bought his Benson and Hedges cigarettes and Opium me thinks.ReplyDelete
It must be hard having three brilliant sisters. Hard to shine as brightly.Delete
I am not hijacking your blog YP but there is talk that Branwell helped write the books and he was a very good artist too. Apparently the Reverend Bronte was really called Patrick Brunte and he was born in County Down. All fascinating stuff.ReplyDelete
I believe that the old family surname was in fact O'Pronty. And please don't worry about hijacking as I know that used to be a common pastime in Ireland - especially up in Ulster. More popular than Smithwicks.Delete
Smithwicks is awful like a lot of commercial beers like Heineken and Carlsberg.Delete
Nice! I like your ear for the sounds of the language.ReplyDelete
Thanks Steve. I try to make each word count - not just with meaning but with sound too.Delete
👍 ... A-OK on your poem! I totally enjoyed that!ReplyDelete
Thanks for reading it Marcia.Delete
I enjoyed this as it gave me a feel for the moors. I particularly liked the last stanza. Thank you for sharing your creative writing.ReplyDelete
Thank you for reading it Bonnie.Delete
Oblivious of me"
When working in the garden this last week I have two Pulmonaria plants which have been full of bees who have ignored me working next to them. I shall read them your poem when the weather improves again.
If you do that the neighbours may request a visit by a mental health nurse. "Och aye nurse ye ken, he was talkin' wi' bees and earthworms too!"Delete