Conversing with BlakeA Poem by Chris Shaw
It is a known fact
that as he stood admiring a fine skyline of the city of London, in all its breathtaking splendour, Blake conversed with the sun from atop Primrose Hill. Content I would have been, if he'd sat with me, upon this bench hewn out of a fallen tree, strategically placed to appreciate the quiet slopes of our valley. Sweeping from feet to depths below while the glow of sol burnishes where meadow hay once danced. Now cut back, rolled, perfectly baled to bake in warm sunlight. Like ink blots on yellowed parchment, crows in random rows, in their black coats and tails pause in golden stubble, resembling musical notes on a composer's manuscript. I am singing, I am singing. © 2019 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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Added on September 30, 2019Last Updated on September 30, 2019 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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