The Mountain

Jack initially submitted this poem to The National Poetry Foundation in 1988.  After receiving a critique of the poem from the Foundation he polished it some more and re-submitted it in 1989.  It was then accepted towards the collection of his work that was unfortunately never published.

The Mountain

The mountain is warm and calm today. Sheep
Graze its greener slopes – warm beating hearts
Scurry and fret under a colourful apron
Of heather and bracken – but the rocks,
Giant ruminating rocks prevail.

Winding, almost turning back on itself,
Distant in a heavy haze of ling the path
Spills headlong, rushing like a stream
To where I stand. With soaring head and
Heart I start to climb as far as fancy takes.

Up here on the mountain there is truth.
Sweet unfettered winds of honesty blow
Across purple tremulous heather, and
Huge indulgent boulders soak up time
In a dense effortless silence.

I sit awash in a cathedral calm
While a soaring minstrel lark, a bubbling
Free spirit, feathered the sky with its song,
So in harmony with its surroundings
I could still hear the silence breathing.

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The Random Wall

One of the gems amongst Jack’s poems, this short poem was accepted by The National Poetry Foundation in 1988 to be included in the publication of a collection of his work.  As I said in my last post, this unfortunately never came to fruition.

 

The Random Wall

I watch a workman build a wall
With stone strewn by a quarry blast.
To me they seemed so ill disposed,
Last remnant of some holocaust.
Yet each strewn orphan’s craggy face
Was found a careful resting place,
The large, the small, the gross misshapes,
And none to claim a pride of place,
The strength of one the strength of all.
A worthwhile task, a good stone wall.

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