Mossy Roof, taken by Stephen Buchan, with all rights reserved
This poem was posted first on June 1, 2009. The comments that appeared that day were terrific and I recommend that post. Maybe it's just me, but I think all of those people are special and their blogs are special too, especially Rachel and Erin.
Another Symbolic Poem
There's moss on my roof.
From time to time I go up.
Climbing the ladder,
I clamber onto
The walkway roof, on my knees,
Then get to my feet,
Step over the gutter,
Go up to the ridge, begin
Scraping the biggest
Green clumps which tumble,
Roll back down the way I came.
Moss keeps returning.
I admit I love
The intense green, that moss green,
So I never clean
It all off the roof.
January 10, 2009 10:45 AM
Hmmm YES I can just feel the stuff, thick in my nands, radiating green. Great poem.
ReplyDeleteA photo full of light, texture and and timespan, as are your words...
ReplyDeleteocean, thank you.
ReplyDeleteJinsky, it's been a while since you left sign of your passing by. Welcome. Hope all is well.
chris,
ReplyDeletefirstly a great photo...the green texture is amazing..i'm a lazy person and i often fail to wipe the dirt of my possessions....but in this case i think we are the possession.....ain't it...there is dust on my windows.....a little falls on me everyday...i'm just as close to the window....as the wind is to me....it is a journey....none wish to take...hence i sleep again....
cheers....