Friday, September 11, 2015

Misty Moorland--By Jack Horne--England

Misty Moorland

I crossed the moor one murky morning.
It looked like a partially painted page:
grey-white with just a little green grass at the base,
but instead of gradually filling with colour it grew greyer...greyer,
and I was soon wandering in a blank canvas world.

The fog smelt foul like burnt suede in a boiled-dry pan
and sounds of ponies, cattle and sheep were muffled, muted.

As I slowly turned three hundred and sixty degrees
it seemed I stood in a circle:
a ring of grass in the greyness was all I could see.
Myths came to mind and I imagined a fairy ring.

Fantasy turned to fear when I realised I was lost...

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.


  1. I like this poem, it evokes a mystical world which only can be seen by a dreamy mind and we know that so is how things turn into reality, even if for so few and chosen ones.

  2. Hi Jack:
    This captures the intrigue of a foggy lonely moor where the imagination can run away with you.

  3. An excellent poem depicting the hazy environment that the moors are capable of offering. It appeals to the imagination as the mind wanders in a vast wilderness. ~ All the best, my friend. // paul

  4. Wonderful poem Jack. I could see myself in that foggy environment, kind of eerie & fascinating at the same time! Good wishes, Chris~

  5. Sad, to be so displaced... Even in a maze, there is at least, a starting point.

  6. Another terrific write my friend. I haven't heard from you in a while, but I have thought about you and your glorious works. I'm glad I got to read this one, you are still writing some magnificent poetry! What an awesome piece, great work.

  7. Excellent write, Jack!
    Imagery kinda other-worldy... eerie...