Here’s another poem written in the style of a ballad, with a hint of mystery.





So when will we come back, she said,

So when will we stray?

The oaks grow round the shack, she said,

And the night kills day.


There may be no return, I said,

But we’ll stray for sure:

Or else the tower will burn, I said,

And the moon will lure.


So will we find the stone, my friend?

Will it brightly burn?

Or will we waste to bone, my friend,

Lying in the fern?


The stone may not be found, my friend,

Not in shack or sea,

Or in broken ground, my friend.

It may never be.


So let us rise and go, she said,

Calling in the night,

For what we do not know, she said,

And a dream of light.



Copyright Simon Banks 2012



Previous Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: