Call of the Minster
By lenchenelf
- 2947 reads
Sleet driven, a totter amongst aged shoulders in York
we side-skipped neon,
our curiousity drawn to walled shelter,
skeletal dwelling place.
Stalled, we, in this perfect echo chamber
rapt in peal and wonder; elsewhere unheard;
bells, dulled by the highrise of commerce.
http://www.historyofyork.org.uk/themes/norman/the-norman-house
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Comments
What a beautiful piece,
What a beautiful piece, Lenchenelf. Spare and arresting.
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sleet, stalled, rapt
sleet, stalled, rapt inextricably are we in high finance for all to see
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a shelter and quiet relief
a shelter and quiet relief from glitter, sleet and money pressures - could you really hear the bells? Rhiannon
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This is our Facebook and
This is our Facebook and Twitter pick of the day!
Get a fantastic reading recommendation every day.
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Beautifully observed, a
Beautifully observed, a little wonder in the midst of the hurly-burly, your poem too.
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Another gem
Another gem
More power to your doodling pen, as ever, Lena
Tina
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You set a high standard Lena.
You set a high standard Lena. The next time I enter such a place I shall let the walls speak to me, as they do in your beautiful poem.
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