Today I’ve got another oldie but (I hope) a goodie, although it’s only about five years old. I love writing about the supernatural or the mythological, and you’ll often find them as themes running through my poetry.
I remember my birth
torn from the quarry
then found to be unfit for the stone circle.
I remember the superstitions,
the Wild Hunt's ride, sacrifices to beg a boon
the dancing and the Green Man's bride.
I remember the poets,
who spent years perfecting the faultless rhyme
that would make of them heroes
I remember the old gods
no longer worshipped, not knowing why,
turning their backs on man.
I have felt the passage of time
felt the reshaping of my limestone form
awakened in my new home atop the cathedral
I have watched the world turn
the pleasure and the sorrow of man
the life and the death. Oh, so much death.
I have watched the city rise and fall
the new replacing the old until only I remain
keeping your secrets carved in stone.