Monday, 30 November 2009

Monday Poem

I see  Monday poems are still popping up, despite the demise of TFE's admirable bus. (Crashed by Einstein, as I remember? Oh, well. All good things come to an end). I wrote this poem about rock-climbing on a gritstone outcrop in Yorkshire a long time ago. I posted it when I first started this blog. Since probably no-one but me read it then, I thought I'd repost it.

Bridestone

From one angle
it looked
like the head
of a man.

I climbed up.
The grit slashed
the pale skin
on my knuckles.

I held on-
to the nose-bridge,
pressed down
onto the cheekbone,

rested my hands
on the forehead,
looked at the sky
reflected in the rain-

-pool worn
into the rough pate
of the stone.
I rested there,

a temporary statue,
relishing the touch
of a dark moon,
newly inhabited.

(c)Dominic Rivron 2000

8 comments:

Poetikat said...

I'm so glad you did! This is a really nice observation. I liked the personification of the outcrop—the nose-bridge,cheekbone and forehead. Equally, I like how you morph yourself into the figure, in a transitory fashion. Thanks for revealing it to we, who missed it the first time.

Titus said...

Can only echo Kat, and I loved the last five lines.

Your blog likes me now, and admits me quite readily.

Totalfeckineejit said...

Great earthy poem,Dominic, and the last five lines lift it into a different realm. Lovely.

Poet in Residence said...

I like the strong visual words. It reminds me of the Ilkley Moor Fell Race for some reason.

John Hayes said...

Wonderfully pithy Anglo-Saxon words in this one--rugged & good. The dark moon is a wonderful surprise.

Rachel Fenton said...

It makes me homesick. I love the way the poem keeps on climbing...

Dominic Rivron said...

Thanks for these comments, everybody!

The Weaver of Grass said...

This has always been one of my favourite poems - glad you posted it again. And, BTW, I did read it the first time you posted it!pitteski