The Wall

A response here to a poetry group challenge. I’m usually reluctant to write poetry to order, but I think this isn’t bad on the subject “walls”.

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THE WALL

 

Perhaps a straggly hedge; a random pattern of bushes

Our inkblot eyes form into a rough finger,

Blackthorn-barbed, elder and bramble tangled

Stronghold of spiders, ant home, breeder of birds

Only cutting or clear deduction from shape

Would show the wall it was.

What wall, though? Did it divide warring families,

Mark the boundaries of a morose feud,

Shear off the rich estate from stubborn farmers

Or shelter sheep against the harsh March wind?

Perhaps a law, a rule, stopped here, on the other side strangeness

Darkness and a different light to be dowsed

Perhaps two lovers held hands across the roughness

Rasping their wrists, or maybe a farmer forswore it

Broke holes for his plotted purpose

A generation from its loving building.

It fruits and flowers like a spiny Eden

It holds its secrets like a deep, dark millstream.

Copyright Simon Banks 2013

 

 

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2 Comments

  1. Walls carry so much weight – literally!

    Reply

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