GEIST FORMT MATERIE
 |
| THE OLD WOOD . . . |
Old Wood
is not
dead
wood
this timber piled
is a world of
beetles and bats
all with
a place
to hang out
for the old wood's left
to crack and snap
and break apart
by sun and moon
and stars
we imagine
what will be beyond
the ant
the beetle
the ivy creeper
is the unseen world
the parallel world
the unknown
the unknown
world
where a pattern
where a pattern
calls
out
go down
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| . . . AND THE IDEA OF NEW |
I absolutely love this Gwil. May I print it out and pin it on my board of special things - it is such a wonderful poem.
ReplyDeleteYou absolutely may! It would be a great honour to be featured on your "board special things" . Thank you!
ReplyDeleteenjoyed this Gwilym
ReplyDeletejohn
Thanks John. Hope the weather's not too bad.
ReplyDeleteLike it. As you say, not dead. I was reminded of the more often talked about falling of leaves in autumn which people wrongly associate with death - it of course being merely a step to renewal, no more to do with death than me cutting my nails, as I understand it.
ReplyDeleteYes, Dominic, the step on the road to renewal is a good way of putting it. So I'm theorizing here that it's the same in the subatomic or the invisible and that all things go on. You might enjoy Jim Murdoch's latest post at The Truth About Lies - a lot there about music.
ReplyDelete