The Last Place



The Last Place

Had a gated door, a  flight of steps bounded by the forest
Where thin lipped creatures crept along paths
Undiscernible to the naked eye, ghosts walking
Down alleyways rank with moss and drooping tongues
Of ferns, lush sentinels of bunched grasses
Of many summer’s growth, cats’eyes glittering
Behind a  rooted stump so lavish with racks of fungus
A larder of sweet energies,  the spores bursting day on day…
All the while you longed to write, until night fell

When at last you could take out your pen
Weaving the  wiry words from hard won silence
Incantatory dreams released like oaths

A druid’s offering, your scintillating spell.


Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights Reserved



About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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One Response to The Last Place

  1. Justin says:

    Really nice poem!

    Liked by 1 person

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