Author Information
soul of time
Folder:
backburner results
The tides still reach though hands grow thin,
Oars lie quiet where once they'd been.
From spade to sail, from heart to shore,
A song remains, but boats no more.
Beneath the hearth where old tongues weave,
A tale is born in ember’s sleeve.
The voices rise, the echoes call,
In fireside lore and shadowed hall.
A bard’s bright words, a poet’s strain,
Still whisper through the lashing rain.
Let not their song fade, nor their rhyme—
For stories guard the soul of time.
(Yes, I am trying another
(Yes, I am trying another one.) Your verbal dexterity and skill as a tale-weaver really, really, really commands my respect. This one is a centerpiece of your entire Poetry. It is textbook perfect and deserves to be in every quotation book. It reminds me of a remark Ezra Pound wrote in a letter after T. S, Eliot published The Waste Land in 1922: "About enough to make the rest of us close up shop." That remark definitely applies to this poem, also!
Starwardist
Your most valued words come
Your most valued words come at a very good time as a dark season has sojoirned upon the arid poetic land. Many, many thanks
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver