The Old Way 6

On March 15, 2019 By Mick CanningIn creative writing, poetry, The Old Way, travel, writing19 Comments

Poem #6 of 6. The end of the journey.

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The Old Way 6

When the square sails of the invading Romans

First appeared over the horizon,

This path was already ancient.

When the first sword was forged,

When the giant stones were placed

In mysterious alignments,

This path was already old.

Only when the great ice giants

Relaxed their grip on the land

Were these paths young.

These are paths to tread reverently,

Mindful of those countless others

Who also once passed this way.

Friend, take your place on this journey,

You are in fine company.

Old

On January 18, 2018 By Mick CanningIn old age, poetry, writing25 Comments

One more of the poems from a notebook of about 25 years ago. Re-reading them, I am slightly surprised to find I rather like a lot of them, still. Although my style has altered considerably, my sentiments are still much the same. Which is as you would expect, I suppose.

But there are plenty that I certainly won’t be inflicting upon you!

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As hard as ice and twice as cold,

The devil that is growing old;

Who taunts our bodies’ feeble frames,

And takes our minds – forgetting names.

As cold as ice and twice as hard,

The back that’s bent, the hand that’s scarred.

The face that’s worn and lined with sorrow,

The fear there may be no tomorrow.

The fear tomorrow may come yet,

And bring us more embarrassment,

But how we cling with greedy hands,

To these poor fragile, shallow, lands!