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Mike Walsh. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.
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Under Mount Warning
At times I thought of you away out there
around the edges through the peaks in time.
The years I had not seen you in the years,
outside a cry; "Christmas in the Hot North"
in there a voice I recognised in time.
I found you were a poet so I wrote
"A Hanging Moon" for you on New Year's Eve,
the black dog my mournful old companion
to woof out baleful helpings in the rhyme.
Enticed you, and we had a wet dam day,
you clipped some cottage cheese on day old bread.
Comfort thermos coffee for life stories,
abbreviated by some instant need.
I had a little whiskey in the trunk
and council men painted picnic tables,
you were coquettish then and then it rained
down came the sense of being brought inside.
It rained down in the soothing silver way.
I thought about the glassy rhyolite
that drove The Driller mad so long before,
when we probed through the rock to build the wall
and cutting oil mocked us through the fracture,
and leaked up from the creek bed down below.
So now a little stream submerged in flood,
and the wall is up but this has made no end;
around the edges flew these thoughts and you,
the years I had not seen you in the years,
I wondered what was going through my head.
Presentiments perhaps in there to guard
against the days that separate the sun
or from the flood of me so swept away
underneath the shadow of Mount Warning
forever in a valley filled with you.