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Pause for poetry: Michael Hawkes /2

So Long Alone

A poem by Michael Hawkes

 

One hears the forest creak and groan,

with undertones of the ravens’ croak,

and prefers the squelch on a clam shell beach

to the raucous sound of human speech

when one has lived so long alone.

One tends to watch the grasses grow

to tuft above the straggled snow;

and understands why creatures go

so far to hide from human reach

when one has lived so long alone.

One looks a fine buck in the eye

with no intent to maim or kill,

applies the art of standing still

to see him strut with head held high

when one has lived so long alone.

One reads the contrails in the sky,

hears a screech from the jet-streamed sky

and understands the reasons why

they seem to have a tale to teach,

when one has lived so long alone.

One hears the stars converse at night

and watches comets burning brightly

streak across the glowing dome.

There’s nought surpasses such delight

when one has lived so long alone .

One soon forgets all one was taught

by one’s old masters’ plodding thought,

by all the guff they think they know,

then feels one’s understanding grow

from having lived so long alone.

 

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Read also: more poems


Michael Hawkes - WestmountMag.ca

Michael Hawkes is an 80-year-old survivor of all the world’s wars. He learned and (loved to rhyme) by torturing the hymns he had to sing at school. A retired West Coast fisherman living in Montreal since 2013, he is an unschooled Grandpa Moses writing an average of five poems every week.


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  1. Robert Morrison

    I am glad a friend referred me to your poetry. I am a published writer and poet and there are lines I wish I had written . G. Robert Morrison


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