The story of that rusting gate
That's stood here longer than me
Who thought, talked and planned
Where this fields gate would be.
The shape, the size, the cost
Who measured the length and height
And built the grand pillars of stone
To hang their thoughts, a gate.
Who forged the steel to make it
And hammered rivets in place
To create a unique masterpiece
The smithy, with a blackened face?
I have seen a Rembrandt, Monet,
And others hanging at the Tate
Picasso, Da Vinci and Van Gogh
But never this beautiful art, a gate.
Douglas McClarty's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Gate by Douglas McClarty )
- Why Africa Would Not Bow, Jerome Chukwuemeka Edwin
- Walking With The Master, Heather Burns
- O night, you have so much beauty really, gajanan mishra
- Passage for, hasmukh amathalal
- I Did Not Know, Jerome Chukwuemeka Edwin
- Simply Spoken Life, Heather Burns
- Did You Ever Love Me, Peter S. Quinn
- On To the Night, Peter S. Quinn
- Haiku...Highway Heart Race, Ken e Hall
- Guaman Poma, Nassy Fesharaki
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)