Portland Quarryman's dream

Dreamy days... 

I recently shared a Portland poem on here by Bob Wollage, having a few people contact me saying they liked reading local poems, I am happy to share another great one from Bob, thanks go again to Sylv for sharing this with me...

A QUARRYMANS DREAM

Dawn comes -

Silent - like grief, stirring the dregs of night with cold tears.

Wooden crane jib leans - silhouette

against lowering clouds -

blackened - weatherbeaten -

by the West winds sullen hostility.

Life tired old quarryman -

stare and dream.

Watching impassive cranes display their dead strength -

in quarries.

He hears -

Dull thud of steel on stone -

protest of wheels as they strain,

Distant voices -

Familiar noises -

of which he was once part.

He's still there in spirit -

blood pulsating.

Thoughts small and fleeting -

seep through his mind -

like quiet breezes.

times scenes and faces -

longed for places- pass

and are gone -

graveward -

As death will come -

Tearing life's pattern -

from inert brain.

Bob Wollage - July 1980

Being a stonemason myself... I can relate. :o)
Poems are great in that they share something in a way stories can't.

Do you have any poems to share? Want to see it on this site?

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