Above the fen the ghost lights flicker there,
Move through the swamp oaks and the aspens then,
They hang and scent with musk the humid air
Above the fen.
Far from the daily haunts of living men,
One ghost light seems a girl, both ashen, fair,
She motions to me once and then again.
I stand alone and gape, and stare and stare,
And would retrace my steps back to the glen,
Yet I am tangled in her golden hair
Above the fen.
Author notes
this is a Roundel, a form created by Algernon Swinburne...also, this poem is dedicted to Blank Pages...
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
i enjoyed this. a nice breath of fantasy after reading plenty of heartbreak and emo. Roundel huh...i think ill look more into this. great imagry though i think im a bit ignorant to the origins. what is the fen?
-
Wow, I love your writing style! Very intruging poem, and written most excelently!
-
Very nicely done Michael! The diction in this piece is perfect and so is your timing. Great scene too.
, Dannie
-
Beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-
I used to live on the Fens. My parents still live there. Intriguing place. Fogs over quite a bit due to the water.
Wonderful intriguing poem! Love it!
Dari xxx
-
Enchanting
A light-filled piece filled with enchanting imagry ..I love the word fen and anything about fens bewitches me..Your poem reminds me of poems of the old masters like...Harold Monro,Walter de la Mare,Francis Ledwidge and William Butler Yeats.I was and am bewitched by your words...
Adding your comment:
1 - 6 of 6
