Walking Alone
A mountain scene:
below the snow line certainly,
but high on the green slopes where the blue sky
whispers, if you’re listening, of eternity.
Strange how the mind works
when you’re walking. It wanders about, pausing,
moving on, covering the ground of familiar thoughts,
like goats grazing.
Not having wings
and having no notion
of flight, it helps to be very sure-footed.
That, and short on imagination.
© John Looker 2014
Poetry from John Looker 
Fantastic. Love it x
LikeLike
By: Alice on 18 December, 2014
at 17:55
Thank you Alice. I can see you on that mountain!
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 18 December, 2014
at 22:23
A strange, wonderful poem. The ambulatory (loose) rhythms, within a pattern of short and long, the X-Y high/low rhetoric, suggests the mind adjusting to the terrain with its changes. That is, the mind is not allowed its own rhythms; it is tied to the earth. So the initial strong image – listening to eternity — becomes a sort of negative space; there’s almost a wistfulness about this meandering–and that seems true to human nature! Only with the last line is that dissatisfaction given free reign. It may not be too much to think of this as touching on the great image of Samuel Johnson, with all his repressed Romanticism, walking, walking, walking, his huge frame and myopia somehow making him more like an animal of the byways rather than the pre-eminent man of letters he was.
LikeLike
By: Tom D'Evelyn on 18 December, 2014
at 20:43
I would not have thought of Samuel J in this context, Tom (maybe the poem is set in the Scottish Highlands!) but I like that image – as I do also your remarks on the form of the poem (form always interests me greatly in a poem). Ambulatory rhythms – perfect. I am grateful to you.
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 18 December, 2014
at 22:39
Such a pleasant scene you set….a verdant mountainside, a blue sky whispering eternity, a lone, pensive walker, a metaphorical goat…and then BANG!…that last line!
I walk back to the beginning of the poem and notice, now, that the sky whispers IF you listen and the thoughts seem restricted to familiar ground. The metaphorical goat (maybe chewing its cud), being sure-footed, is unlikely to stumble, err or fail—not only is it without wings, but it has NO NOTION of wings…..good thing, too, or it might not be so sure-footed. Beautifully ironical ending, John..a nice surprise!
LikeLike
By: Cynthia Jobin on 18 December, 2014
at 21:52
I am delighted that you liked it Cynthia and thought it worthwhile reading over. Thank you.
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 18 December, 2014
at 22:41
John, I loved the depth of thought and mountain scene you created with this poem. It bought back memories of living in Colorado and hiking in the mountains above the tree line. No goats but plenty of Big Horn sheep.They did not like sharing the trail with a hiker. Merry Christmas…….
LikeLike
By: Donald Harbour on 19 December, 2014
at 12:52
Merry Christmas to you too, Donald, and thank you for mentioning those memories here. Very interesting!
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 21 December, 2014
at 11:08
Beautiful poem! A pleasure to read. I am one who loves to walk…and I loved this “walk”, John.
LikeLike
By: Anna Mark on 20 December, 2014
at 23:33
Thanks Anna. It’s always nice to hear from you.
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 21 December, 2014
at 11:08
wonderful! my mind is most definitely like goats grazing quite often – what a perfect descriptor 🙂 kudos!
LikeLike
By: ebbtide on 21 December, 2014
at 03:07
Thank you Sarah. I believe your mind is much more focused than you pretend!.
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 21 December, 2014
at 11:11
Excellent John. Really like the loose rhyming formation.
LikeLike
By: gorgeousgael on 27 December, 2014
at 16:15
Thank you — it’s good to hear from you.
LikeLike
By: John Stevens on 28 December, 2014
at 22:20
😀
LikeLike
By: Nomzi Kumalo on 3 January, 2015
at 15:23
I love it… Particularly its poetic corollary.
All the best to you~ Aquileana 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
By: Aquileana on 7 January, 2015
at 14:12