Another poem

Lady Alma St Fillan

(The Ghost of Finlarig Castle)

As I approach the fearsome fortress,
My Castle, resting in the wooded knoll:
Its awesome square towers are silhouettes
Against the deepening dusk;
The red sun is setting on the silvery water,
That laps against the boundary of the loch.

Barefoot, I slowly pass by My Gavin’s grave.
There is another, entitled Lady Alma; where I lay.
Ivy and moulding, wet leaves grab at my feet and I push my
way
Through tangled, moss enthroned branches, which sway
And groan and want me, I know, to be away.

The dank, weathered walls are cold and, with the mist now
Rising, I turn and, espy the bridge low
Against the horizon, that is now almost a memory;
In the darkness, before the moon must surely show
Itself I will walk right through the wall,
And back, through the ages, in My Home.

© Karen Philpott, 2007
(also published on WikidWords site)

Well, here goes ...

Forgiveness

Loneliness grips as I am on my way,
And dare to search for you again.
Fog drowns all vision, but I hear you say
‘I’m here.’ The words hanging in refrain.

Drawing me along our avenue
Your arms encircle me as I am filled
With blame and remorse for you …
And dread for the love I fear I’ve killed.

We each hold on. And together we cry,
As we reach the corner and find our place
Our sanctuary, where we sit by
the flames and I watch your face

As your eyes search mine with care
you tell me, ‘stay,’ and stroke my hair.

Karen Philpott

This was going to be called Writtings & Pomes......

........ but, I thought that might be a bit silly.

However, I chose pushing pencil, because that's what I'm going to be doing.

At last.

I need to get Writing, thus, pushing the pencil. Or, the keys to be precise.

End of first literary witterings on this extension to my blog.