Sometimes, well very occasionally, I like to try my hand at a bit of poetry. I say occasionally because I’m not very good at it, but would like to be. I’d love to be able to write fluent, flowing and expressive poetry. Anyway, on a recent walk I found some inspiration when I passed a drystone wall which set my thinking, and the creative juices flowing. I always carry a notepad so I composed this poem as I walked:
The Drystone Waller
One on one on one on one,
The drystone waller’s day’s begun,
Stone on stone on stone on stone,
Lots to do ere he goes home.
A solid build as ‘fits his trade,
Every stone securely laid,
Sweating brow and breaking back,
Another stone goes on the rack.
Perfect symmetry, line on line,
Locked together, looking fine,
From random stones, different shapes,
A cohesive whole he creates.
The master’s hand the holding glue,
Nothing more, forever new,
Come wind come rain ’twill strongly stand,
And remain a part of this ancient land.
These scattered stones have become a wall,
So solid, dependable, standing tall,
For years to come ere he’s gone home,
An epitaph to a job well done.
It just struck me that these random stones just laying around on the ground, in the hands of a master become something useful and strong, something that has a real purpose. Makes me think of people!
Thanks for stopping by and reading the ramblings of The Dorset Rambler!
Until next time,
The Dorset Rambler.
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