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The Waiting

.          "‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,"
                  As we lay behind the moonlit door;
                        So many years we waited
              For the voice that would settle the score.
                 The secrets we held within our hearts
                      Brought us back to this silent place;
            Where for many days, in these lonely rooms
                      We expected to see your face.
         But the forest darkened, as the days became weeks
            And the weeks, gathering moss, became years;
                You lost our trust, and we lost our youth
                       In the salty dust of our tears.
                   Many was the time we would listen
                As a noise broke the vacuum we filled;
                And one of us would climb to the turret
                   To call out to the forest now stilled.
           Descending the stairs where hope slowly died
                          Afraid to return to attest;
           To our hollow faces and our fear filled hearts
                This would not be the day of our guest.
            You bade us wait and we honoured our word
                  The ferns have witnessed our bond;
              The thing we promised not to be spake
                       Has never ventured beyond -
              These crumbling walls and rotting beams
                      As the house itself slowly died -
                 and one last time we prayed in the hall
                    That into the glade you would ride.
           Our flesh is no more and our bones will not last
                But our spirits have entered these walls;
                  Keeping vigil beyond this time of men
                       Until he who’s waited for calls.
         So, if ever your grey eyes should rest on this place
                 And your knocking should go unheeded;
              Our ghosts will see and we’ll sleep in peace
                In the knowledge we did as was needed.


Inspired by:
The Listeners
by Walter de la Mare

Entered for: the Masters Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tracy Decker.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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Date: 11/18/2008 12:25:00 PM
THIS POEM IS REALLY GOOD I am blown away with your use of language.The rhyme and rhythm flow beatifuliy.... I just love this.... " And the weeks, gathering moss, became years; You lost our trust, and we lost our youth In the salty dust of our tears." LOVELY
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Date: 11/16/2008 12:30:00 AM
Congrats on your success in Tracy's contest Nigel.Rgds brian
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Date: 11/15/2008 5:47:00 PM
Wow Nigel!!! Warmest congratulations on your Second Place win in Tracy's contest! Your poetry rocks dude!!! So well deserved. Love, Shar
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Date: 10/30/2008 9:02:00 PM
Another great write from you, Nigel. You've been really busy today ... smile ... I got an image of a building left standing in WWII somewhere in France with this write ... imagination is wonderful ...
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