Inspiration

You're searching for a quiet spot
To sit, and have a little thought.
A place unhaunted by the fears
Of daily cares and passing years.
A place untroubled by the beat
And aimless rush of many feet.
   You want a grassy corner where,
   Untroubled by the mocking stare,
   Of those who do not understand
   You'll take a pen into your hand.
   Take pen, and write a simple song
   To pass unnoticed by the throng.

But then, someday when you are dead,
And granite molders at your head,
A careworn soul will read your lay
Of starry night and sunny day
And find the courage to depart
The beaten paths, and make a start
   Upon the peaceful, grassy way
   Where only kindred feet will stray.
   At length to seek a weathered stone -
   A grassy tomb, at peace, alone -
   And say, (perhaps with grateful tear),
   'My friend, your song has brought me here.'

Comments

  1. I love the second half; the first, not as much, though I'm not sure why. Perhaps the first lines felt a little more plodding and predictable, whereas the second were more effortlessly lyrical. A difference in the sorts of words chosen, I think. Part 1 has all the rhythm and rhyme of Part 2, but less of a sense of rarer words used in new ways. (I hope that came across halfway clear...)

    My favorite lines:
    "A careworn soul will read your lay..."
    "Where only kindred feet will stray..."
    And the sweet triumph of the end -- " 'My friend, your song has brought me here.' "

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, I think I worked harder on the first bit...and it shows a little too much. The second part just flowed out.

      Delete

Post a Comment

I enjoy hearing what you have to say! You can comment using your Google, LiveJournal, WordPress, TypePad or AIM account. If you don't have any of those, you can simply fill in one or both boxes on the Name/URL option. Feel free to leave me a link to your own blog or website - I'm always looking for more good things to read.

Popular posts from this blog

Waiting

A Motley Crew

Chatterbox: We Were Not Born for Idleness