The Long Call
By D G Moody
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Outbound from Orkney
Away from the land and now out at sea,
where the long call of the Herring Gull
reminds me of her abiding call to me.
Calling me now with her love and desire,
calling me from the ice back to our fire;
yet she knew I would always forsake her,
so that I could follow the widow maker.
“ What am I now, that you leave me?
Watching your oars pull out to sea;
away now from your kith and home,
free to go wherever you may roam.”
That cold drear bitch shall be leading me on,
enticing me with her seducing song.
Leading me to where gold and death might lie,
over the horizon and past the sky.
Now’s she’s my fate and I must embrace her;
she is my thrall – the grey widow maker.
“Leaving behind the hearth we shared;
the sod fire and the hot pelt nights,
when each to each was all we desired;
leaving me now with the kids you sired.”
I always breath freer when I’m out at sea,
knowing there can be no land close to me.
“Wrapped in my cloak, can you hear my repine?
In the long call – I am here, and you are mine”.
© D G Moody 2024
(Image courtesy of Mark Millmore)
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Comments
I found your poem and that of
I found your poem and that of Kipling (which I hadn't read before) interesting and descriptive of the pull of the open space (I imagine a similar pull felt often by many to be up in mountainous widlerness) and the conflict of danger and responsibility. You seem to have given much thought to sculpting this to hone the points concisely, and I had to look up a couple of useful words! Rhiannon
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You took my breath away with
You took my breath away with this poem Dougie. Like poets of old you capture the ambience of another era. Very much enjoyed reading.
Jenny..
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Your painting
Your painting looks like the Dawn Trader, you know of the Narnia stories. The poem is compact it's not so easy to read, but excellent.
And "gold was made for going to for dreams of coming from, which with any luck will never come true
Cheers! Tom
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Mud can make you prisoner
Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can make you dry,
Snow can burn your eyes but only people make you cry.
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