CORNISH HEART
My life a cold, bleak moor
Stretching toward painful horizons,
The lonely gibbet
With swinging chains
Just laughs at me.
Atop, sits a raven of velvet black
Eyes of dulled pleasure,
Doffs his head and cries
With a raucous, cawing throat.
A grey veil of rain
A torrent for a misery complete,
Pouring over my Cornish heart
Dampening any remaining will.
The ruins of a tin mine
Hollow and just a shell,
The granite scattered at its feet
Are just the husks of my aching bones.
Where do I go?
The sucking marsh
Holds me down,
On this dark and brooding moor
My soul is lost.
The pathway is littered
Wraiths tear at my heart,
The billowing, buffeting gale
Slows my quest for peace.
My eyes stinging from
Shards of icy rime,
I can only hope to find her,
She sings her voice
Tremulous, yet perfect
Soothing, a silken shroud
Glides effortless over the moor.
Upon the rocks of Zennor
My lady waits for me,
My Cornish heart is rending
It’s filled with yearning misery.
The moor
With its grisly monoliths
And wilderness out to capture me,
The ghosts of long dead wayfarers
Float over the broody tarns.
Down well trodden paths
My quest does lead
To my siren of the sea,
My Cornish heart is pounding
For my lady so close to me.
The sun may shine
Once again
On this haunted, bleak and barren moor,
For then I’d found my lady.
My siren of the sea
My Cornish heart will dance
With my
Siren of the sea.
Phil Hall June 2013
the imagery in this one ie fantantastic. and the love is great. i love cornwall. and i always have loved from books and especially now from your words. it seems like a place i would have liked to be born in too. XXX
ReplyDeleteThis is amazing Phil, a double entendre. So descriptive, filled with yearning. It makes the reader want to visit the moors of Cornwall and the heart of the writer. Loved it.
ReplyDelete