The arch: change of use
Someone built this arch
of golden stone to lead to
his beloved garden.
How he’d weep to see it locked;
the cherished beauty hidden.
Someone built this arch
of golden stone to lead to
his beloved garden.
How he’d weep to see it locked;
the cherished beauty hidden.
Recently I attended a meeting at the British Antarctic Survey building in Cambridge. Outside the main entrance is a memorial to the dogs that worked for the Survey from 1945 to 1993.
For me the list of names is found poetry. I can imagine them being recited with the sounds of barking dogs and hissing antarctic winds in the background.
The names are so evocative: Hairybreeks and Hobbits are friendly, but would I want to meet Terrors or Gangsters? I’d love to shake paws with a dog called Moomin, even though I don’t know what his name means.
There’s quite a bit of poetry about huskies on the web. One called My Husky Team about a race to the Pole has a ballad-like start and an amusing ending.
I met a man who mushed
with Peary to the Pole.
Said I, ‘In all that land so hushed
what most inspired your soul?’
Another that I like is on a site called Dogster. It starts with a statement of the achievement of the Siberian huskies.
You conquered the toughest country
Ever created on earth.
Where you led, man followed your footsteps,
And the North was given birth.
I don’t have the names of either of these poets, but I admire their work and their praise, amusing and serious, for the husky.
The current prompt on Carpe Diem‘s blog is ‘fence’. Like so many words in English it has several meanings. I have endeavoured to cover two of them.
The cat on the fence
sees the private garden, and
the public alley.
Time to fence – en garde.
Face to face my buttoned foil,
trembles in my hand.
From the cloud filled sky:
a few snowflakes. From the park:
children’s gleeful shouts.