The Scribe in the Woods of Time

There’s an ancient wood where nobody goes

That’s hid in the mists of time,

It covers a hundred miles or so

To the west of the Eden line;

The passengers on the rattling train

Will pull at the blinds, and stare,

But no-one’s game to get off the train

With the howl of the wolves out there!

 

And the stories told of walkers, who

Have never come back to tell,

Of monstrous birds that tore at their throats,

Of blood, congealed in a well;

There are cats out there as big as goats

The snakes are draped through the trees,

And vampire bats float down in a cloud

When there’s more than a passing breeze.

 

So none will venture into the wood

Not now, or in times gone by,

The bones that lie in the undergrowth

Are a lesson, for you and I;

But deep within is a clearing there,

A chimney that belches smoke,

A cottage door that is left ajar,

And hung on a hook, a cloak!

 

The cottage has stood there undisturbed

Since sixteen hundred and nine,

The man who sits at the writing desk

Is writing outside of time,

He whips up storms in the Balkans,

Conjures Thunderheads in the States,

With every swirl of his feather quill

Tornadoes twirl, or abate.

 

He hasn’t the time to trim his beard

It curls right down to the floor,

His eyebrows droop down over his eyes,

His hair is a nest, for sure;

Where eaglets peck, and nip at his scalp,

He brushes the birds away,

And dips his quill in the ink he spills

From the blood of an old dismay!

 

He marshals armies across the seas,

Prefers to put them to flight,

Their weapons gone as a harsh moon shone,

The soldiers melt in the night;

He topples Princes, he topples Kings

The fate of their wives is worse,

He packs them off to the guillotine,

But he always does it in verse!

 

Then when the sun sinks under the rim

Of the world in its daily round,

He sits in the cottage, cloaked in gloom

And his face turns into a frown;

Then he lifts his eyes to the stars above

Makes one of his heartfelt pleas:

‘Allow me to scribble ‘THE END’, my Lord!’

But a silence rings through the trees!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Mark]

I can't quite put words to the feelings this verse evokes from me--It is as though the old hermit were cursed to chronicle all, yet partake in nothing, and desires nothing so much as it's end. Perhaps, too, 1609 was a random date, chosen for it's metricity, but I am compelled to wonder what took place in that year, and who was cursed by those events to live outside of time, forever observing. His words seem to sway the courses of histories, yet he seems to be uncaring of all but his tedium. A really challenging piece, David, one of your finest.

[LadyNaida]

Wow, is very eerie! I could see the images in my mind as I read on.

[K. D. Kromminga]

Your poems flow so well I can imagine them both in your video/live reading presentation style or maybe even as a bardic/skald song. There are a number of types of music that tell folk tales, from Celtic style to American Bluegrass. It might be something interesting to explore about setting your poetry to music. A favorite author of mine, Mercedes Lackey, had a bard as a major supporting character in her books, "Last Herald Mage" trilogy. Later after the books hit it big she worked with a folk Music Artist, Heather Alexander, and set all of those bardic song to music.
Here's my two favorites:
Magic's Price
http://youtu.be/n73uvJlADEc
Demonsbane
http://youtu.be/sRa3NGeVdG4
Yours would be at least as good if not better. I can't help but seeing your work as more a bluegrass style story like "The Devil came down to Georgia" but maybe that's just me. :)

[joshua deathdealer]

This is incredible. I love this lavish piece!! Great message also.

[Katrina Mckeown]

great use of imagery, a well penned peice,thought provoking and emotive!

[Lexi Nicole]

I absolutely loved this! Everything about it is outstanding. I love your vocabulary and imagery. This sucked me in from the very beginning. Thank you so much for sharing.

-Teagan.

[Jeremy Baker]

Tremendous, rousing words and epic style. The message and the structure are robust and reasuring. Excellent writing, a joy to read.

[icaros13]

Classic. You, sir, are a wordsmith. This is the third of your poems I have read, now I shall read the rest with delight. Incredible!

[TL Boehm]

Such a wonderful old word flavor to this piece, a minstrel's song, a story told. absolutely brilliant and so refreshing from the endless deluge of emoetry and moody introspection found at the cafe.

[Kenneth The Poet]

You have a better gift than I, David. Stellar write!

[iand63]

milliganesque in its delivery, will reread