Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

From this mist

by Bernard Brooks

From this mist ladled morning,
Shot with the suns soft red rays,
Comes the usual awakening,
Like thousands before,
Yet today, flowing through
The dawns muted tones,
The creeping encroachment
Of certain endings.
The mundane sounds,
Familiar in their comfort,
Are silently immersed,
By a rising tide of farewells,
The usual stuff of life,
Ordinarily exquisite,
Delivers from its midst
The end where we began.
Images float slowly past,
Postcards imprinted on memory,
Depth and chronology mingle
Lakes, beaches, pools and rivers
Fields, farmhouses, hills and forests
Bikes, nets, spades and towels,
The retinas happy flotsam,
Stuff of routine joy,
Cast on memories strand,
Bringing us back
To what is known and loved,
Pleasure simple and so bittersweet.
Natures green aisle
Shimmers in the glare of time,
Passing hands sow seeds of hope,
Remembered voices echo softly,
As we await the simple re-creation.

Added: 06.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


Some nice images in this but they are swallowed up by other less impressive images. Tends to delve into exposition.