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hallaig
11-26-2012, 11:19 AM
A view of Rannoch moor, with the lochans
and the rocks and a few twisted trees.
It’s on calendars, like the ‘The Castle Eilean Donan’;
saw that once, looked fake to me.

Of course it’s a romantic view, but who wants
to see garlands of sick outside a shuttered shop
on a Saturday night, who’d buy a calendar like that?
And what’s real? I think of somewhere, not

a person for miles, me and the sky and the sound
of water and the wind just, wouldn’t care if it was raining,
and not a word, a world washed free of words, maybe round
about teatime if possible the sight of a small inn

and what if you were picking through the puddles
in those boots I saw in the distance this morning, you,
except carefree and strange and eager as me
to be part of the view.

Anton Hermes
11-26-2012, 03:18 PM
a world washed free of words

Wow. Well done.

Delta40
11-26-2012, 05:38 PM
Not sure about the last line in S2 but great imagery

Bar22do
11-27-2012, 04:24 AM
So beautiful. It holds a dream (btw, so precious to me personally these days...); reading your poem I kind of partook of it and for a moment lived in a better part of reality. thanks for that. I like the transition from S2 to S3; the whole poem is an exquisite vignette.

hillwalker
11-27-2012, 11:40 AM
Nice meditation on the difference between reality (the kind of reality we're happy living in) and the air-brushed.

H