The Scribe in the Woods of Time

The Scribe in the Woods of Time

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

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

© 2012 David Lewis Paget


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Featured Review

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.

Posted 12 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Writing is such a mysterious dicsipline that no writer alive knows exactly where his ideas really come from. What spirit really holds that pen? Don't we all actually plagiarize some Muse or some Jinn or Siren, that we mistakenly call our creativity? I have often wondered why English teachers put such importance on grammar and punctuation, to get the form exactly in the proper mechanical state. Should'nt they instead give us Ale or Wine to encourage us to communicate with the real intelligence? I love this poem, Mr. Paget, nice job.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

as i was reading this piece i kept thinking "i'd like to sing this" as soon as my stitches heal and i'm able to wale once again, i'm gonna give it a go and send the vocals to you, see if you wouldn't mind it in a song--deep, deep journey this piece took me on. thank you for sharing--the last stanza in particular, as i imagine we all might say, is so incredibly relatable to me..with a mind always churning..

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is a great piece with the 'beyond perception' feel. Thumbs up.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Great shot..!!!!

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wow, very folk-tail-ish. very nice and ancient-like. i enjoyed this!

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Ah, the ecliptic minds of those less pious one might think, a guarded piece, well done, good read.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Its really Amazing! all story-poem is so vivid and clear as a picture in mind of readers...I feel like I follow the path of the fairytell place you describe and stay with the shadow of the man "cloaked in gloom" ..:)
~nia~

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Amazing... thanks for the write. Cheers

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

words are writen you have what it takes, you're a poet.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Fantastic write that really has me wondering why he was punished and not allowed to leave this earth..This one is super..Love Kathie

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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1938 Views
49 Reviews
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Shelved in 11 Libraries
Added on March 11, 2012
Last Updated on March 11, 2012
Tags: ancient, bones, writing, beard

Author

David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget

Moonta, South Australia, Australia



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