07-31-2012, 08:23 PM
A reaction to a walk up Grindsbrook Clough in the Peak District, Derbyshire,
I have no idea if this works or is just doggerel: any help appreciated.
Dark Satanic Hills
Up above the grinning Clough,
Sky and land sit hand in hand.
Like shy lovers awaiting fate’s command,
Smiling as slippery walkers pay their final demand.
Side by side, stone dead, but alive with might,
Grit stone Goliaths glower and growl through day and night:
Akeldama could not have less invite.
The squall scoured cheeks of the blackened moor
Scowl and howl in infinite inquisition;
What Promethium fortune is this to be wind whipped forever more?
In the graveyard sculpted by Henry Moore,
Low among the abstract sullen sacks,
Lie solemn sepulchres silently awaiting future’s past.
Above the deep veined valley’s ominous steep,
Perilous stacks sit stooped in foreboding like bears in a pit.
As clouds threatened and the sky folds black,
The lightning daggered in glinting attack,
Then thunder summoned its voice with a mordant crack
And in an instant, all time rolled back.
If there was a purpose for this deep scourged earth,
It was only to be, the perfect promontory from which to see,
The end of days as this brute land is engulfed by sea.
I have no idea if this works or is just doggerel: any help appreciated.
Dark Satanic Hills
Up above the grinning Clough,
Sky and land sit hand in hand.
Like shy lovers awaiting fate’s command,
Smiling as slippery walkers pay their final demand.
Side by side, stone dead, but alive with might,
Grit stone Goliaths glower and growl through day and night:
Akeldama could not have less invite.
The squall scoured cheeks of the blackened moor
Scowl and howl in infinite inquisition;
What Promethium fortune is this to be wind whipped forever more?
In the graveyard sculpted by Henry Moore,
Low among the abstract sullen sacks,
Lie solemn sepulchres silently awaiting future’s past.
Above the deep veined valley’s ominous steep,
Perilous stacks sit stooped in foreboding like bears in a pit.
As clouds threatened and the sky folds black,
The lightning daggered in glinting attack,
Then thunder summoned its voice with a mordant crack
And in an instant, all time rolled back.
If there was a purpose for this deep scourged earth,
It was only to be, the perfect promontory from which to see,
The end of days as this brute land is engulfed by sea.