Monday, September 16, 2013

611 : The Map


The Mag provided the above map as a prompt.

The Map

Every inlet, 
Every bay,
Every contour line
That shows the way 
That the land lies.  
Lies.
It is not that way,
Not at all.  Not even remotely.
The land is not an inked outline, 
Not a flat, numbered grid
Of creased and yellowing paper.
The land lives, the land grows.
And decays.  The cycles of lives
Lives lived and loved on the fields
And meadows of a rich, warm country.
There are birds, and small inquisitive mammals,
And colourful, multi-legged insects
And streams and fish and furtive rodents

Scurrying from tuft to tuft,
And fruits and berries 
And shady glens beneath the trees.
These are things not caught by the cartographers
Nor sought by the lovers 
On the rug on the grass.

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© J Cosmo Newbery 2013
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19 comments:

  1. Ah, yes ... you saw what I saw ~~ and described it beautifully in poem form.

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  2. Replies
    1. Thank you. Regret not populating teh island with tigers now.

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  3. Brilliantly written!

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  4. The only similarity is that once it has been opened right out you can never put it back together again. Not properly anyway...

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  5. An observation of the essence, the patchwork, of life. Softly stated but deeply felt. I can understand the couple being so self focused, but they should beware, without care,the grass will not be there to make love on.

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  6. Really enjoyed reading this. You've captured the essence of the land and the creatures who reside upon it, very nice.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you. I left out all the nasty ones. Except for the odd rodent.

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    2. A rodent (furtively)September 17, 2013

      Pssst...my comrades and I appreciate the inclusion.

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  7. With the advent of 3D and holographic projection, I wonder what maps will look like in the future.

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  8. Gorgeous write...it lives and breathes!

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  9. A wonderful poem, thank you!

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  10. Indeed, there is much that cannot be discovered from looking at the map of something. Brilliant, the way you led into showing how the map lies... Experience of something is what makes it real.

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  11. How strange...you are the second of my blogger mates who has made reference, one way or the other, to St. Ninians Island in the last couple of days!

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