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Way out over Copland's Appalachian Springs

T Wignesan Avatar T Wignesan - LIFETIME Premium Member T Wignesan - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Way out over Copland's Appalachian Springs which was written by poet T Wignesan. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Way out over Copland's Appalachian Springs

 
We dragged the slopes to our feet.
On the summit, we burnt our clothes
for wood and there shuffled our feet
in the hush of the falling snow.
 
We had come out of the scuffed grass.
 
With one look back in unbelief
exhuming the long trek
                                       the silent keen
                puffing through blubbery fingers.
We pulled the hoofed trail through
the trapdoor of  our unchained links
                foisting for new heights.
 
Beyond the Appalachian Mountains
the hanging fern on pine dripped snow
on moles burrowing in gashed hollows.
 
We paused. In that doubtful moment
we rued the climb, succumbing to the assault
upon this stilled millennia’s eerie silence. 
 
All that time the swivelling blizzards raged
             shifting soil, eroding avalanches.
Below, burgeoning customs
             unmaned the silent dignity of bisons.
All bore testimony to a familiar preparation.
 
And then, suddenly before our eyes
the solemn ground rose with the breeze
the spangled map changing to the quick:
 
              Chicago  Pittsburgh  Kansas City
              wild barnyards dry-coughing, pop-corning garages
              horrent timber ribbed the coasting steamboats
                                                          the linoleum walls
              the mild Indian piqued he was
              by the mahogany cubism of our speech.
 
We wondered if coming so far
only mattered, we would be content
to build a fire, here and now
and unpack our horses.
 
We saw little need to go on.
 
One night the summit might open
up and swallow us all or old age
would come upon us like a lonely neighbour
on a pretext to the door.
 
 
© T.Wignesan 1964
London, U.K.
[from the collection: tell them i’m gone, 1983; published in Fire Readings (A Collection of Contemporary Writing from the Shakespeare & Company Fire Benefit Readings). Paris-Boston: Frank Books, 1991, pp. 36-37.]          
 

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  1. Date: 2/23/2013 11:57:00 AM
    T Wignesan , today's a lovely day, and here you find me reading the feature poems of the week. !!CONGRATULATIONS with your nice verse!! always~ LINDA :-)

    Wignesan Avatar T Wignesan
    Date: 2/23/2013 1:03:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry


    Hi Linda! You find my verse nice most probably because the day is lovely. I would you had found my verse ( dare I call it a poem) "lovely" because the day was/is "nice". Many, many thanks for the felicitations. Hope you have a fine day. Every good wish. Wignesan
  1. Date: 5/29/2012 5:54:00 AM
    old age, yes, I have determined that old age is not for the faint of heart. Hugs, Catie :)

    Wignesan Avatar T Wignesan
    Date: 6/15/2012 10:04:00 AM Block poet from commenting on your poetry


    Your line is a quotable quote: you should have it copyrighted. Brilliant! Every good wish. Wignesan