Mountain, Looming Out of Fogs
There's no exaggerating it;
What reduces pride.
Lifted, for a lofty being's;
Who would rather hide!
Man, a god, did on how many
A squirming, shaking
Little fright, just that forced choice
With unjust cause bring?
Standing alike o'er, stony-faced
And as sharp-outlined.
An intimidating presence.
Sky-tall. Sky-enshrined.
Copyright © James Watkin | Year Posted 2021
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