Black Preseli Poem by David Burton Richardson

Black burnt Gorse of Carbon Hands
That clutch the dank soiled Earth
All around this barren land
The place of Mist and languished Birth
The Violet hue drawn Sky
And Moonlit liquid pools of Light
Leaves us just to wonder why
That mottled Green and dithering Slime
And shots of White thrust burning Night
Those tiny dots of Wool
That cling to Hill and side
The peace and war like heavy Song
That makes these Worlds collide
The wet trodden paths of Time
And ramblers risk is all sublime
Those Mounds of Earth and molten shock
That upward jagged slating Rock
Will one day be a bitter Mind
Nothing left, the end of Time
Those Violet twisting haze of Days
We see the World to plunder
And dissappear among the Rays
Those Days of deepest Thunder.