Number three in a series of poems.
The Old Way 3
If in some distant future
Our roads are haunted
By the ghosts of countless travellers,
I wonder if,
Instead of ghostly horses and their riders,
Our descendants will be terrified
By the spectres of lorry drivers,
And motor cyclists.
But the Old Way
Has already seen ten times
Ten thousand travellers,
And all that over the course of
Many times a thousand years.
For all that time
It has linked cottage and farm.
For thousands of years
It has linked town and hamlet,
Village and encampment.
All that time.
And if ghosts there be,
Travelling the way,
It must surely be crowded.
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beautifully composed
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Thanks, Jaya!
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Very neat poem! When you consider the number of fatalities on some roads, they must be having spectral traffic jams. Love the image of a Flying Dutchman truck hurtling past, and the inexplicable scent of ghostly diesel.
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Ooh, yes, great image! Thanks, Robert. Headless motorcyclists haunting the crossroads at midnight, ghostly traffic wardens looming out of the mist…
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Roads crowded with ghosts… Something I’ve thought about too. Good poem, Mick.
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Thanks, Val. I’m sure it will happen!
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I’ve often thought about this, but you put it in evocative word pictures. Thank you Mick.
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Thanks, Laura. You being an outdoorsy poemy sort of person, I can see how it might!
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Who owns the paths of time
Of horses and lorries and butterflies
Where karmas cross
And hip check each other into the future
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Go on…
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