I look out from Goonhilly,
now back to pristine green.
The high sizzle of communication,
silent.
As if it, had never been!
No stirrings on the Lizard
In sunshine or in rain
The voices speak no more to me.
I listen, but in vain...
goldenrod.
Printable View
I look out from Goonhilly,
now back to pristine green.
The high sizzle of communication,
silent.
As if it, had never been!
No stirrings on the Lizard
In sunshine or in rain
The voices speak no more to me.
I listen, but in vain...
goldenrod.
I know that area like the back of my hand. Beautiful, beautiful poem. Reminds me of the time we lost our way in one of the Victorian gardens following an ancient railway line and ended up on a plain from where you could have breathtaking views of the entire Lizard Peninsula, the rolling green hills all the way up to the sea-front. Absolutely calm and silent. Is there another place like that on earth?
That's what I am talking about, your poem reminds me of this place:
http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i72/Raz1/P7250014.jpg
It is different from what you had imagined but this is another side of the Lizard, not far from the buzzing satellite station you visited. This is the quiet side, away from all communication. I was there for almost three hours and could not see another human being. Oh the joys of getting lost!
Goonhilly
http://i224.photobucket.com/albums/d...lly_Dish_2.jpg
yes, it is very quiet now, no one's listening to Arthur anymore. Nice poem, brought back memories of a good summer.
This is really a good poem, and I am moved by the beauty of it
*blazeofglory*
Thank you *blaze*
You have Kathmandu as your location, how does the time difference compare with southern Ontario?
(Kafka's Crow)
There are parts of northern Ontario that remind me of the Lizard, but they overlook one of the Great Lakes and, of course, it might be that they just evoke a similar mood!
goldenrod.
(TheFifthElement)
In my case it was a full spring. It was different, but not to be missed!
goldenrod.
(PrinceMyshkin)
The rich history of English intermingled fact and myth is nowhere more deeply ingrained than in ruined sites of Cornwall. As soon as you get out into the wild countryside alone, with no other person in sight, imagination begins to stir...
goldenrod.