Our thoughts, cloud-rived musings
Transcend the mundane
With this, mountainy
Rise; inspiringly.
Higher, what for them are
Freer, world-detached
With these, winged aslant
Sent. More effective!
Swallows sunward. Till
Mind for peace is still.
I'll take his walks
But not his ways.
Rugged for each, rung through
Old woodsman's days.
I'll track what cries
For peace, hawk-climbed
In that soothing, stream-breathed
Mountainy thymed.
While bypassing
Unnerved by, mourned
Legends echo, in both felled
Branched grandeur; horned.
Winter brims
over bouldered ground
above Rostrevor.
Louring skies meld
blue lough to green forest.
Needling wind keens
through raftered bones,
once homes,
hewn from ancient granite.
Mourne claims her own,
over and over,
defeating generations.
Hasp and staple,
galvanised against the sleekit mist,
defend rude-lintelled doors.
Who comes?
Only ghosts of emigrants,
wraiths of mountainy men
whose quick selves
coaxed poor life
from pale, barren hills
above Rostrevor.
The sky was lovely on that summer day,
The time just seemed to slip away.
We were going on our monthly trip,
Heading for a mountainy dip.
At the bottom there lay a fabulous stream,
Just like one you'd have in a dream.
With the water flowing over the tiny stones,
And birds singing out at such high tones.
We all felt at ease.
We stopped beside a jagged rock,
Lay down our things and sat to talk.
Black clouds now cover the summer sky,
As we all let out a disappointed sigh.
We soon set of as one big team,
Leaving behind the peaceful stream.
As we turn onto a leafy lane,
I feel the first drop of the rain.
I run for cover under a tree,
But not before the rain soaks me!
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.