Cerrig-Brudyn/The Astronomers Circle
A distant dampness wrings the air.
A weight most profound presses chest
as indrawn breath holds silent;
in the stonehedge of overwhelming gloom.
So, the mighty have fallen
auguries of a mortal doom.
Without missive,
bluestone bones, stanchions silhouette
onto a plane of pastel sky.
Gargantuan, they rise, a tomb.
So, the mighty have fallen
auguries of a mortal doom.
Brittle brown blood expunged
by millennium three,
the still, symbolic, oak forest rises.
Frozen sarsens, five, forming an open grove.
Megaliths beaconing a golden eastern dawn
So, the multitude will rise within the circle
without earthly substance, soul;
through green grasslands loam
ashen augury of a different tome.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment