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Ernes Poems

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Premium Member Poem The Giant of Lisbellaw john fleming Rhyme Rhyme ernes, philosophy,

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Ernes Poem Example

The Giant of Lisbellaw

Stood I there, that last day,
On an iron bridge...
An aqueduct by design,
Where, looking dreamily out over
The Ernes Lower Lough,
My compressed shadow 
Momentarily paused -
To contently recline:
Amidst coy Junes radiant beams 
of sweet benign!
All was stilled, all was hushed,
Save vast reed beds sided by the
Shallow hills of Lisbellaw;
And I am lost to enchantment
Of such beguiling thoughts -
Then noon stumped up...
Squatting idly down on 
The far eastern shore.

Stirred bloods mixed and
Glowed, 
Risen inside the linings 
Of warmed and prominent veins, 
Starkly contrasting against a 
Bleached and weathered rail of
Coarse and twisted grains; 
Whereon, my hands staid by 
Wonderment,
I dissected my solitary years
Of three singular and two score 
More;
When, suddenly, down the narrow
Lane:
The loudening sounds of 
Motoring -
Progressing steadily along 
Emanating from a diesels engines 
High-torque drawl.

From this carriage alighted an
Elderly man -
But what a giant of a man who
Now stood before!
With shoulders like a Donegal 
Bull -
He must have still stood well 
Over Six foot- four.
And with a courteous nod of the
Head
To an impassioned peroxide 
Blonde,
Whos ample Bosom could bring 
Comfort 
To any mans bed -
Would such that desire should 
Implore,
Stepping assuredly away,
Gently closed the big cars door.

Here was a gentleman schooled 
In concision;
He a masterly exponent in the art 
Of communication
Made more effective by
Elimination of redundancy;
Economy of language, economy of
Movement...
Deliberate, terse, and very much
Versed,
In this, his brevity of 
Installed incumbency.

The thin lines of orange and 
Mauve,
Tracing like fizzing peat turf 
Flame,
That squared within his pale 
Blue shirt,
Criss-crossing at right angles 
Across
His torsos colossal frame;
Where one could plainly see, 
With merely just a single glance,
Demonstration of a mighty fulcrum
Centred by the heavy silvered
Buckle -
Whose leather belt drew in at the 
Neatly pressed pleats
Of the softly blackened corduroy 
Pants.

Compromised somewhat,
And anticipating a reaction
That might be considered rather 
awkward and a little adverse...
Suggested by the immense manner 
Of ambling approach,
I stumbled over meaningless 
Words
As I struggled for something,
However nonsensical, 
To almost apologetically broach:-
"There is rather few Bream",
Said I -
"But the river is brimming over
With plentiful good sized Roach"! 

A quizzical look flickered and then
Mapped itself 
Over that impassive face,
A look that younger or more 
Foolish folks 
Might have mistakenly 
Misinterpreted as an arrogant
Reproach.
Stared he down into the glare
Of the rippled depths...
As if examining the thinness of
My mortal soul;
Stared he distractedly across 
The bays great expanse
As if imploring unto mysterious 
Currents,
Swimming with beguiling Nivian
In swirling dalliance,
That may offer up, like Excalibur -
Some fantastic vision to behold!
Intently pondering;
Perhaps, I reasoned, In search of
His forefathers soothing muses of 
Old
Drawn from legend of folklore:
Doubtless could fortify depleted wit...
And thereby his heart console;
Wherefore, in slow response...
The worthiness of this bridge he
Didst prepare, 
Therefore - to so virtuously extol!

A dialect, commanded by 
Measured brogue,
That over me enveloped
Like fog upon Cuilcaghs mystical
Hills of continually eroding
Sandstones,
Developed through ancestral 
Enhancement...
Indelibly immersed in Fermanaghs 
Guttural and broad undertones;
Enriched by successive generations 
Rejoicing in their Heavenly bower:
Now just buried bones
Rehearsed and blessed in public 
Liturgies
Delivered under Alberts great 
Tower -
Upon whose mouldering caskets 
The bells striking chimes 
So forcefully atones;
And a voice brought hence to this 
Place,
A voice born to converse in 
Singularly articulated lines...
Fortified by propriety of grace...

Whence he spoke:-

"GOOD WORK - DONE BY GOOD MEN -
FROM OLDEN TIMES"!

Without more ado, and uncaring of
An answer,
He turned and strode away;
Leaving me feeling,
During that brief intrusion of
Heavenly interplay,
As if this had been one of Gods 
Emissaries descended,
During zenith of Prime Meridian,
Upon this devoid and hushed
Highway.
Quickly re-ensconced,
As if demanded by higher 
Authority
To react swiftly through 
Necessity of immediate response,
Bridling horsepower once again 
Reined;
Mighty pistons, growling to life,
Contained -
Within the exploding bore and all 
Its fiery strife!
Wherein the cast block:
Pivotal rods pushing down hard upon 
A ground cranks bolted constrains -
When powering my receding vision 
Away...
Away into the diminishing dusts of 
Hosannas racing refraines.

Left alone,
With head bowed in silent 
Deference... 
For the ruminations of an older
And wiser mans preference,
I knew that I would forever 
Remember
This revered and most hallowed
Day.
For now committed to mind -
Be that Bridges steadfast and 
Enduring designs...

And those eternal words...

"GOOD WORK - DONE BY GOOD MEN -
FROM OLDEN TIMES"!



A TRUE STORY THAT HAPPENED TO ME 16 YEARS AGO.

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