Eternal Youth

Be careful what you wish for...

I was travelling through a countryside

That I’d never seen before,

As it grew dark, the mountainsides

Loomed threatening, over my car,

The cloud hung low in a louring sky

And my headlights cut through the gloom,

Ahead on the twisting, bending road

I had hopes of a cosy room.

 

There wasn’t a house or a farm out there,

The valley was threading down,

The deeper it went, the darker yet

With still no sign of a town,

I thought that I’d have to drive all night

And my eyes were growing dim,

When back in the trees, I saw a light

And a sign: ‘The Dew Drop Inn’.

 

I pulled at the bell for the Publican

And I heard a shuffle inside,

A shadow loomed, and the hinges creaked

And the door swung open wide,

A man so gaunt that his face was grey

And his sallow cheeks were thin,

Stood trembling in the doorway there

In the hall of the Dew Drop Inn!’

 

I followed him in, not saying a word,

He motioned me into the bar,

Then poured me a whiskey and water

While I stared at a glass topped jar,

It drew my gaze as I sipped my drink

For the contents bubbled and swirled,

And I said: ‘Just where is the Dew Drop Inn?’

He replied: ‘At the End of the World!’

 

His voice came bubbling out of his chest

Like the rasp of a rusty saw,

His hands were trembling, where they lay

And he kept his eyes on the door.

‘That jar, it changes its colours, look!

From red, through green and gold…’

He said: ‘They told me one sip from that

And a man would never grow old!’

 

I stared at him, and I saw him frown

With a tear at the edge of his eye,

This ancient man with the trembling hand

And I said: ‘Well, that was a lie!’

He shook his head and he turned to me

‘It depends what you want it for,

I was twenty-two when I took my sip…

I’m a hundred and sixty four!’

 

‘I didn’t age for a hundred years

I revelled in youth, so long,

But suddenly I grew weary, thought

That there must have been something wrong!

I lost the zest for a youthful life,

Was beginning to feel my years,

All of my friends were dead and gone,

This life is a valley of tears!’

 

‘You’re telling me that one sip from this

Will give me a hundred - True?

I’ll still be fit and I’ll still be strong,

At a hundred and thirty two?’

‘You will, but there’s a condition

You must take on the Dew Drop Inn,

And stay in this cursèd valley then

‘Til a seeker of youth walks in!’

 

I’m standing behind the counter with

My eyes on the outer door,

I’ve stood like stone for forty years

And paced a track on the floor,

The Publican left, the moment I sipped

He went with a joyous cry,

In search of a path from the Dew Drop Inn

Where at last, he could finally die!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbara Walker]

A great story told with beautiful prose! Love the rhythm and flow in this and it's a very uncommon theme. Unique!

[Wondering Mind]

a message well told in poetic perfection!

[Kimberly "Melody" Carne..]

As always a masterpiece! It entertains the lips as the words roll off and the mind ponders of the wisdom within. Perfectly written in every way...but you already know that ;)

[JohnnyMagrinho]

This reminds me of Hotel California by Eagles. It just has that feeling about it. And there's a sense of old English tales like Arthur and Robin Hood, there, too.

I could imagine Arthur on horseback riding towards this fabled spot, like when he was searching for that infamous sword in the stone or the Lady in The Lake. Just as easily I could see Leonardo DiCaprio in Shutter Island looking for answers.

I liked the story and how effective the poems rhyming scheme made the content. They compliment each other well. I like the repeated use of Dew Drop Inn and the imagery given by watery language. You convey the idea of a fountain or source of water very well, against the ageing, dry husks of the aged. It's a nice juxtaposition and emphases your point well.

I don't know whether it's because I've not slept for a while or because I've drank too much, but at points in the poem I had a hard time comprehending the rhythm and pace of it. Sometimes I had to stop and read again, or try to read a bit quicker than I'd like to have done. Some parts flowed effortlessly but I felt some parts were a bit more stuttering.

I don't really like poetry like this, as I'd probably prefer to read a nice bit of prose or short story, but as it goes I liked what I read but that was more than likely due to the content. I felt the story to be a nice rendition of an unoriginal idea with decent thought gone into expressing that idea in terms of word usage and rhyme.

[Marie]

An ancient tale, but well told...the oolish search for youthfullness...

[BlackRose]

WOW! You already know what I'm going to say. ;o)

[That_Girl]

Hmmm your tales are very interesting. I caught a few minor spelling errors but overall, well done.

[David Lewis Paget]

There are no spelling errors. I use British English, not American.

[Marie]

He must have seen the same thing I did:The cloud hung low in a louring sky. I don't know what the word "louring" means, but I've never known you to make a spelling mistake.

[That_Girl]

lol that and cosy... but I wouldn't know

[David Lewis Paget]

Lour, lower, 1. frown, look sullen or (of sky &c.) dark and threatening
2. n. scowl, gloominess of clouds - thus louring. I used that spelling rather than lowering because it would have had a different connotation in other people's minds. Oxford English Dictionary.
cosy - 1. snug, comfortable; complacent 2. quilted cover for teapot or boiled egg, to retain warmth
Oxford English Dictionary. (There is no 'e' in cosy).

[David Lewis Paget]

PS - the 'ou' in louring is as in the word 'ouch!'