Photo by Alejandro Tocornal on Unsplash

His broken heart; resolve had sought

A harvest of a single thought

A jewel upon a mountain near the sky

.

The air was scarce, the night was black

With only ropes, bereft of pack

He scaled the sheer-faced virgin peak

.

His body numb, his fingers worn

And harried by a hope forlorn

He waited for the morning sun to rise

.

High on a ridge he found the cove

For there it grew, the rarest rose

He named it fair Titania of the heights

.

And scribed on paper with a pen

He wrapped it round her tender stem

And lay there with his sweetheart till he died

--

--

First Date

We sheltered under a chestnut tree
As the rain came down
And I talked of favourite words
The scent of fresh rain on soil – petrichor
The scent of a woman as she passes - sillage
And I felt I’d given her something of worth
I was wrong though. I’d only bored her.
Sometimes first dates go like this
And even the tree looked unhealthy

--

--

Duncan MacDowall

Sometime writer and satirist with an interest in current affairs, religion, sport, literature and a propensity towards penning political poems. London based.