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Description

Along the Somme Lines

Down the line, summer's long through eyes merry,
Monthly trace warmly set-off from ferry,
Landscapes of subtle change, sights feel the same,
Journeying heart with life-trained starting game,
For doubles thrown collateral motions,
Ancestral tidings from hay made notions,
Those August focal family visions,
Set Somme-side flow converging traditions,
That happy union of culture made me,
Where Abbeville homed a cherub lay by free.

Loose paper, pencil-shaving scented eve,
Flickering light bulb skims a border weave,
With a sense to go on drawing, closer,
In bare light we'd music to live over,
And over again, breathing survivor,
Two lines ascend destiny chose neither,
On a weeping bridge one autumn morning,
Hand-held heart's halt for our life adourning,
The sole of a last step faces the past,
So clearly realising lost world's vast.

New life rises over familiar lines,
Along pleasure pads and battleground mines,
Asymmetrical album plays true rhyme,
Right on track, family-fed Picarde time,
Their voices heave in the presence of none,
One train then another departure done,
Yet unfinished Pastis still fills the air,
Frozen hourglass cubes melt that eclair;
Stations of youth signal destination,
Whence dreamy sleepers stirred French affection.

05 June, 2014
©Daniel Brooks-Laurent

Photo: Gare d'Abbeville, Somme, France.

[All my work is copyrighted, so please respect the time and effort I put into this, however you are very welcome to contact me if you wish to use my poetry or photos.]

Description

Along the Somme Lines

Down the line, summer's long through eyes merry,
Monthly trace warmly set-off from ferry,
Landscapes of subtle change, sights feel the same,
Journeying heart with life-trained starting game,
For doubles thrown collateral motions,
Ancestral tidings from hay made notions,
Those August focal family visions,
Set Somme-side flow converging traditions,
That happy union of culture made me,
Where Abbeville homed a cherub lay by free.

Loose paper, pencil-shaving scented eve,
Flickering light bulb skims a border weave,
With a sense to go on drawing, closer,
In bare light we'd music to live over,
And over again, breathing survivor,
Two lines ascend destiny chose neither,
On a weeping bridge one autumn morning,
Hand-held heart's halt for our life adourning,
The sole of a last step faces the past,
So clearly realising lost world's vast.

New life rises over familiar lines,
Along pleasure pads and battleground mines,
Asymmetrical album plays true rhyme,
Right on track, family-fed Picarde time,
Their voices heave in the presence of none,
One train then another departure done,
Yet unfinished Pastis still fills the air,
Frozen hourglass cubes melt that eclair;
Stations of youth signal destination,
Whence dreamy sleepers stirred French affection.

05 June, 2014
©Daniel Brooks-Laurent

Photo: Gare d'Abbeville, Somme, France.

[All my work is copyrighted, so please respect the time and effort I put into this, however you are very welcome to contact me if you wish to use my poetry or photos.]