John's owl
I heard an owl call, you said
a haunting spectral sound
long and loud in the winter wood.
My neck hairs in a reflex rose
prehistoric ancient fright
conjured in the winter night
and still the sound reechoes now
with memories of childhood tales
ghouls and goblins nighttime dread
it hoots and haunts my waking head.
January 24th 2020, Hounoux
I heard an owl call, you said
a haunting spectral sound
long and loud in the winter wood.
My neck hairs in a reflex rose
prehistoric ancient fright
conjured in the winter night
and still the sound reechoes now
with memories of childhood tales
ghouls and goblins nighttime dread
it hoots and haunts my waking head.
January 24th 2020, Hounoux
Your poem made me smile because by chance I watched a program about owls the other evening. There was a scene in a small French Village and film footage of a sleep deprived woman closing the shutters! Oh dear those night terrors of childhood sound scary, association and reminiscing? another smile!
ReplyDeleteJohn gave me this poem when he mentioned he was working towards writing a poem about an experience he'd recently had whilst staying with his father recently in Cornwall. It had made him think of a time, aeons ago, when the human species was not separate from other creatures, but felt itself to be one with them and able to communicate. He was comforted to think of a time long ago, before the human race made such a terrible mess of life in the planet, as it is doing now. So much of life now is scary. So many of the conversations we have are between friends groping for comfort in a fearful world.
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