Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010


by Simon-Paul Ridgeway

To visit on that mother load, to flash in seamless surge,
The workings of a natural act, upon that stage to purge,
The glory of an earthen heaven, with all its laden gold,
A story man with time forgot, its legend must be told.
The tortured flash in forks of grand and all forsaken light,
Ventured from the fearsome cloud a spear of celestial might,
To spew upon the rolling hills, and in the shady dale,
The awesome act in violent stabs, the earth it would impale.
The harsh contrast of flash, then gone, the crack a bold lament,
A shriek  to all the world to see, the power that is spent,
To gaze upon the harsh bright flash, to watch its greatness grow,
And then again to marvel more, upon that splendid show.
Then dance across the bold black sky, a litany of lost dark souls,
The faces peer from every cloud, the eyes are pitch-black coal,
In every brief and ghastly blink, an intermittent call,
To those in whom the power lies, a post lapsarian fall.
The earth to which all power is drawn, a portent to the meek,
To not lose hope in all mankind, to those of whom we speak,
A prayer in jagged language spoke, an assault on the eye,
Emblazoned on the souls of men, across that jet-black sky.

Added: 23.04.2010