A Bag Of Inconsequence
I remember tiny things picking up a burnt match
from a floor wondering who threw it there.
A May day in St. Malo, I saw an old man crying
streaks of tears down rumpled chin.
Shy bluebells lost amongst tall trees, yet they
made me think of prayer wheels in Tibet.
Glow of coal in the grate, it was early morning
and the road outside was frosty white.
A summer night up north I was waiting for night
it never came...and then it was morning.
In dead rabbits eyes I saw the warm August sky,
I, happy to alive, yet saddened.
When the Pacific Ocean was a mirror of eternity
And time ceased, yet lingered like a kiss.
Waving flags, military band and bloody parades,
I have long forgotten why and where.
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Walter de la Mare
(1873 - 1958)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)