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...
...lost...lost...

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.

7 comments:

  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.

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

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  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

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

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

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  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.

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

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