A Cry for the Lost Country

Durham Street CityAnd I cry for the lost countrySalisbury St City

The regular brick and square of it all

The solid straight lines of tree lined streets

The lovely curves of its river, languid, towards the shore

My country, my land marks, my stone and mortar

Lone brick pileMy sturdy, structured, eternal townRepairs

In rubble, in ruin, in wretched despair

I cry for the lost country of my younger years


June 13th 2011.

Categories: Poetry | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “A Cry for the Lost Country

  1. Ah yes, this is how it was – a city for all seasons – an now all rumpled up and grouchy and hard to touch. Thank you for remembering.

  2. Anonymous

    A Special Place

    The Park’s gnarled trees
    dry leaves crunching underfoot
    Ground hugging autumn mist
    yellow spring flowers surprise

    Good friends, warm relationships, shared laughter
    a rich red sunset etched into the memory
    Norwesters dry skin searing heat still felt
    quiet awakenings on Sunday morning

    The Square, the cities crucible
    bent and broken roads radiating out
    Memories of buildings filling the now empty spaces
    a cathedral observing times passage its custodian


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