Tags
This one has to be for Robert, the Solitary Walker:
You’ve always been a wanderer; you’ve always felt that roots
were tailor-made for grass and trees while you’ve gone round in boots.
You seldom get to wondering what you believe and why.
The thought you might regret it makes you laugh until you cry.
You’ve never been to Canada, New Zealand, or Peru;
you’ve never seen the Taj Mahal, Beijing, or Kathmandu.
I somehow doubt you’ll canter on a horse into Versailles.
The thought you might regret it makes you laugh until you cry.
You’ve never been to Portugal, Barbados, or New York.
I think you peaked performance-wise the day you learnt to walk.
You’ve never been important, and you’ve never been a spy.
The thought you might regret it makes you laugh until you cry.
You’ve never been to Chile, Pakistan, or New Orleans.
I guess you tired of competition in your early teens.
You don’t have any children to salute you when you die.
The thought you might regret it makes you laugh until you cry.
You’ve never been to Singapore, New Guinea, or Japan.
You didn’t want to run a race that everybody ran.
You listen to birds singing in the wilderness of Skye.
The thought you might regret it makes you laugh until you cry.
You’ve always been a wanderer; you’ve always felt that roots
were tailor-made for grass and trees while you’ve gone round in boots.
You seldom get to wondering what you believe and why.
The thought you might regret it makes you laugh until you cry.
(First published in Snakeskin, #158)
The Solitary Walker said:
Well, thanks for the dedication, Duncan!
Although I certainly did tire of competition in my early teens, and have twitched on Skye (don’t worry, no one saw me), you may be surprised to learn about a brief association with MI6 (can’t blog about it, sworn to secrecy) and a pony trek round the châteaux of the Loire.
Only kidding!
About the twitching, I mean…
duncangmaclaurin said:
Eliot said that poetry is an escape from personality, not an expression of it. I don’t know that I agree. One of my friends is convinced this piece is about me. An ideal me, maybe. Two things I do know: our joys and sorrows are intertwined; and ambition and regret are good themes for poetry.
Pingback: Performing in Edinburgh in August « gists