The Reservoir
In our valley’s sweet embrace
We were sheltered.
'Twas indeed a pleasant place.
On summer nights
We played, laughing
By the old packhorse bridge
While above yon brooding ridge
Swallows whirled in August air.
Back then we did not care
Where
Our futures might lead
As long as we’d
Still got our pretty home
By that tumbling river
And our old church spire
Rising higher
Than early morning mist -
Swirling and gently kissed
By golden sunshine from the east
On Derwent village now deceased.
Beneath the
surface
Far below
Sleep remains
Of those lanes
We used to
know
Where fish
and watery shadows glide
As echoes of what was subside.
 |
| A distant view of Ladybower Reservoir last Thursday |
Once again, I am in awe of your eloquence. A haunting poem for a haunted place. Bravo.
ReplyDeleteThank you Jennifer. I just had to write something in memory of that sad place.
DeleteJust lovely.
ReplyDeleteBriony
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Thank you Briony. Glad you liked it.
DeleteMost poignant. You are a very talented man, Y.P.
ReplyDeleteLift the bonnet of a car then ask me some questions Christina. You wouldn't think I was talented then! But many thanks all the same.
DeleteBeautiful! I love the whirling swallows as an emblem of the lively time before the dam.
ReplyDeleteI picked the word "whirled" because later I used "swirling" and I liked that echo.
DeleteYou have penned a most beautiful poem! Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading it Bonnie.
DeleteLovely poem. Are you familiar with the Ballad of Semerwater?
ReplyDeleteNo. Thanks for that Sue. I will seek it out.
DeleteVery nice, YP. I read your answer to my comment yesterday. I think I personally would have a feeling of eeriness, perhaps in reaction to my fear of water. Certainly sadness also, as you said. This piece is a lovely follow up to that post.
ReplyDeleteThank you for not just skimming Jenny.
DeleteIt's just like you were there. I enjoyed the description of your poem.
ReplyDeleteThat's great. Thank you Red.
DeleteReminds me of the good times during my childhood....
ReplyDeleteYour poem Reservoir has been raised from your reservoir of many, I imagine...many more to come, too. :)
...Now I wonder what rhymes with Lee? Busy bee? Cup of tea? Hee-hee-hee?
DeleteYour poem presents an idyllic village life; a never-ending summer of warmth, laughter and happiness.
ReplyDeleteAnd then in a few short, final lines the idyll is drowned forever.
Alphie
You read my poem with sharp sensitivity. Thank you Alphie.
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