The vellum book housed
on the high altar
it's tales so highly purported.
.
Known once to all as
thee holy psalter
it's value was somehow distorted.
thee holy psalter
it's value was somehow distorted.
.
One day it just vanished
into the moss
of a bog beneath Fadden More.
into the moss
of a bog beneath Fadden More.
.
The book of fiction was
thought to be lost
found the year that they did explore.
thought to be lost
found the year that they did explore.
.
It caused us that time
to reminisce
about that age so long ago.
to reminisce
about that age so long ago.
.
How pages so dear
could go amiss
perhaps they were trying to sow.
could go amiss
perhaps they were trying to sow.
I love your thought processes. Your poems seem to elicit some sort of thinking from readers. Thanks for sharing. I hope I don't ever lose any of my older books. Have a nice day.
ReplyDeleteInteresting - the book seems a familiar one. Provocative piece!
ReplyDeleteMy favorite's the last part - how pages so dear...
ReplyDeletethank you for sharing. have a wonderful weekend.
you have spoken so beautifully of this real event...aye the irish book found recently...opened at psalm 83...elohim...amen...
ReplyDeleteyou have such a knack for poetry... i am so glad you are pursuing it more...
ReplyDeletethis was lovely... i have to wonder what might have grown.......
yes,we do reap what we sow,beautifully crafted piece of work, thanks for sharing.
ReplyDelete