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Brian Fisher Poem
Don’t take me unless to the cry of the hawk
Not supported or transported – just let me walk.
No matter that muscles protest and begin to ache
When clouds scud over the peaks and cast shadows across the lake.
Don’t take me if the foothills fail to season
Do not flower – or lie dormant – defying reason.
If the golden trumpets won’t rise up with the dawn
To follow the light till it’s time to droop again, and yawn.
Don’t take me in mid-winter unless of course it’s white
Glistening when the sun shines, eerie grey at night.
When owls flap silently through the wood of conifer tree
The frozen landscape aiding – their prey not getting free.
Don’t take me in the autumn until the first leaves fall
Not on the paths of the tramping feet of visitors who just call.
Let me spring on soft needles of pine
Alone in the forest - alone with my mind.
I care not whether rain or wind should blow
Just always relishing the sheer purity of snow.
On the hills, in the dales – on the lake edges bare
Why - oh why am I not already there?
Copyright © Brian Fisher | Year Posted 2012
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Brian Fisher Poem
WHY?
A Soldier's Anguish
A poem by Brian W Fisher dedicated to all soldiers serving in Afghanistan.
We left. It was the time of lush green.
Deciduous trees sucking moisture to their leaves.
It was the way. It was England's way.
Soon another season would demand.
Those trees forced to trade sap and goodness for
the dryness that always came with autumn colour.
Bronzed, they lost their tentative hold – fluttered to the earth,
the carpet deep and crisp, deadening footsteps that tramped among them.
We left. Engines leaving trails of white.
The deep azure sky streaked as we soared towards the east.
We left. Not alone but in our thousands.
A common purpose – duty – it was our duty.
Were we not convinced of that?
Now those footsteps were no longer softened.
The parched earth transferred its sun-baked surface upwards
through each step – boots symmetrical patterns imprinted
to guide those who followed.
We left. Those who loved us pining.
No time for us to ponder – no time to reflect.
It was our time.
One by one our numbers dwindled.
Each day saw that happen.
Our band of brothers less and less – we saw – we knew – we tried our best.
We left. The pals – the men who cared.
We watched as the arid earth soaked their blood.
We watched when the light faded from their eyes.
Then we took. We took their souls – we strengthened our own.
It was right. It was what they would have wanted.
Copyright © Brian Fisher | Year Posted 2012
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