In the Quarry

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Seanathon
Seanathon
1,645 Followers

In the quarry I still see
the shape of the stone
where they broke the bone,
and painted the raven
who stole the moon
and turned his white wings black.

When they found him hidden in
Greenwood forest deep,
the giant woke from sleep
as they shattered his skin
and tore his home
to pave a city street.

I was young when I wandered
thru cedar trees spared
and found granite bared
where the quarry lay lost
and forgotten
by those who'd come before.

Though the bottom was buried
in boulders and stone,
on top sat a throne.
I claimed it and became
its lord and my
crown was the sky above.

And every Sunday morning
while the sinners slept
to the woods we crept
and I found the psalm that
said God's Chair was
the seat I'd chose to rule.

But we were the only gods
walking those high walls,
shouting out wild calls
that echoed through the trees
to tell the world
we'd never sleep again.

When we were too old to play
we came in the night
and our fires burned bright,
while we laughed and got lost
in the dark woods
that we thought were our own.

Then they took our sacred place,
blinded by their beams,
warned by distant screams,
we fled to our kingdom
of granite and
hid on our cold stone throne.

Under a dark moon, wine had
clouded Simon's mind,
as he sought to find
our hidden place and fled
from the lights and
sounds as they chased him down.

His pounding footsteps went mute,
then from the silence
came the violence
as his pale bones broke on
the granite face
in the quarry below.

A walkie talkie whispers
and a siren screams
while a parent dreams
of a young son who would
never come home
from his kingdom of stone.

In the quarry, we swore we'd
never go back there,
but I'd often stare
at the forest and think
of what we lost
while watching the new moon.

Years later, I walked the wood
once more, with my son,
loved trails overrun,
and taught him how to find
the hidden path
and placed him on my throne.

The giant sleeps beneath us,
broken bones buried,
no longer harried,
and though Simon is gone
his spirit still
lives on – in the quarry.

Seanathon
Seanathon
1,645 Followers
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2 Comments
rbloch66rbloch66over 1 year ago

Very good! I loved it.

CleardaynowCleardaynowabout 10 years ago
A big story strongly told

Have read this several times. This poem is very strong. It tells a strong story and there are real human thoughts, feelings and issues it weaves in. Which I sort of suspect is essentially what poetry actually is about.

I particularly like the section 'while a parent dreams'.

I am a little unsure whether the pace and rhyming are spot on. And I mean unsure, it is quite possible that they are. The short lines tend to emphasise & possibly overemphasise the rhyme. However, this story does not lend itself to prettified verse.

I look forward to reading more poems from you.

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