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Echoes (Stan's Contest)

I lay awake a night of squalling rain
and list for that I heard once long ago,
of pipe and string that plied a mournful strain,
an Elfish song of sorrow, sage and slow.

‘Twas heard by me the first when but a child,
a song of ruthe amidst a nameless storm.
Though lyricless it spoke of faith defiled
and false respect that took a heinous form.

Strange tears I shed that cold and anxious night.
The song was as a shaft that sought my heart
and I could feel refrains of lonesome flight.
Their nocturne quavered, they would soon depart.

Why would they play in such, these minstrels fey
and near, so near, to open window mine?
What magic spell they plied I cannot say,
but I do not forget that graced design.

And so I listen when the evening wind
is full of rain in hopes to ken the tune.
But I, full well, know all they shall rescind
when Faerie flees Man’s drear and graying moon.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 

Comments

This reflects the side that we don't usually see of you sir!
I loved the title. "Echoes" sound very poetic. Loved the whole story. The rhymes and the rhythm.

Touching is the least to say especially as it turns to the ending.

I know "ruth" but not "ruthe"? Archaic perhaps?

Thanks for sharing.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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This is the oldest poem in my "collection" and was written at AT. I wanted to write a Tolkien poem.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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author comment

The middle Earth calls your name and utters thoughts to your poetic mind.
My family drawn from the Moonrakers of old and even older.
The Druids did talk of strange ways and accents from the Barbarians in the north.
My talk has been modified by years away from my Kin, and strange words furrow my brow, memories of them are furnished by your writes.
Young "Horse Whisperer" dwell not too long in the olden ways, others will not understand thy words.
You write with an eloquence of the elders I knew as a child,
Now even as Steve moves among his people you will hear the old words.
Me when talking to my Kin talk likewise, where Shakespeare would understand my bist's and bisents that would fall from my tongue.
One day when travelling is done and we sit down for tea.
We will think talk you and me, where formed words are lost in colourful hues.
There I shall wait for you, and as there is no time there, I will see you sooner than the morrow,
Yours as always. Ian.
Just accept that I have won for a change LOL xx

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

author comment

Mystical, magical and full of mystery! You certainly are a talented poet! You have a great imagination.

I found the more I read it, the more it came alive! :)

Thank's for sharing your talent.

Love Mand xxxxxx

.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

author comment

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

author comment

.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

author comment

The poem is actually a true story... sort of. I wish I could get it recorded here.
It happened when I was a child I heard the music and although I can never attain that level of peace again I am thankful it occurred.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

author comment

Melancholic and powerful verses.

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

I shall comment on this one as it is one of your good works and it will re-enter the stream,
Take care, Yours as always Ian..

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Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

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