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Click hereCool, dry and windy, there’s a little sun
and beach leaves flutter down. The russet road
lies wide and open in the level light;
it’s straight and empty. The odd car will send
the leaves up in a flurry, dancing, gay
and pirouetting round my legs - what dreams,
imaginings of life I used to dream
when down the open road I thought I’d reach
my one true goal, the perfect cup, the grail,
when life had not yet taught what life may teach,
when I had not yet heard the banshee’s wail.
When all the road was new and still good fun
and my young shoulders didn’t feel their load,
how eagerly I walked to each new sight,
each new, wide valley lying round the bend ,
bright-eyed and laughing, happy to obey
the magnetism of my grail’s bright beams
till I got stifled by the banshee’s screams -
Did I forgo what was within my reach
ignoring wisdom, grey-haired, old and frail
or leaving sadness’ broken bones to bleach
unburied? It is lost now, without fail.
I'm going to disagree with butters on this one, demure. Because I think you know that I regard you as one of the most accomplished poets on Lit, I trust you'll take my comments as constructive criticism and reflect on them or disregard as you see fit. As always, your word choice and rhthym are wonderful. The Banshee's wail packs a wallop. Nonetheless, I felt you could have pared back the length of the poem. The first line, in particular, felt forced to me for the sake of establishing the meter. The poem also had, I think, redundancies, perhaps best represented by "good fun."
we're never quite the same once having heard the banshee - steps along nicely without pushing our faces into its form. :) you're missed on the forum!
Sadness's bleached bones : you have an effortless way with words , Dem! High-5 ed .