by roy k austin
(Dorset England)

I zoomed into a bowl of rust
and didn't have a clue,
until I saw the change it made
up close, and different too,
it seemed it's squiggled edges
marked a landscape with a view,
and a cleared patch, for a glade
and an upright scratch or two,
that scraped a hermit's cottage
in a wood that I once knew.
and for a start I thought of art,
though unsightly near the linden,
there was soul in that old bowl
abandoned to a midden,
I tried imagining the users
who discarded with a foot
the loving message on the rim
for anyone to loot,but then
what came to mind was William
Blake, though with the second - hand,
and what a lovely world he saw
' within a grain of sand ' ;
in standing back with naked eye
straight lines were overgrown,
a wall, man's will, was covered
as if the Ivy claimed it's own,
and the cooper's iron rings-
the wooden barrels they would roll
and in the cold enduring daylight
that old bowl was just a bowl.
as I accused my new camera.


Click here to post comments

Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to Poetry Sharing.

Enjoy this page? You can share it. Here's how...

Would you prefer to share this page with others by linking to it?

  1. Click on the HTML link code below.
  2. Copy and paste it, adding a note of your own, into your blog, a Web page, forums, a blog comment, your Facebook account, or anywhere that someone would find this page valuable.