Popular Posts

My Blog List

  • = - Moves, they are just distractions Eyes, only pools of lies Souls, remain lost eternal Truth, is when someone dies Tears, tell of how we suffer Breathe, ...
    1 hour ago
  • WAITING FOR THE MUSE - Like most creative writers I experience periods of despondency when I become convinced that I will never again write anything of consequence and that wha...
    9 hours ago
  • Poetry Pantry #372 - *Photos Taken Along the Bay Trailby Bekkie Sanchez* *A lone century plant blooms amongst the anise (or fennel.) These do not grow along the Bay Tail but...
    14 hours ago
  • Remembering Fred (Fred Williamson 1941 - 2017) - John Carré Buchanan - Fred wrote of very simple things The things he'd seen, places he'd been Monkeys dancing in the trees Dolphins, sunsets, a cool breeze He looked to be a fra...
    19 hours ago
  • Reapers Wall - Written to: *Fireblossom Friday writing challenge "The Distorted Lens"* *follow this link for more details Imaginary Gardens* Reapers Wall Today started cr...
    1 day ago
  • Lost in Time - I smiled this morning as I watched Roy, my only son, lope down the drive, his grandfather's jaw, laughing dark eyes and hair receding already at thirty-six...
    1 week ago
  • Rainy September - I'll survive Rainy September in Japan A can of cold coffee Warming up in my pocket
    1 week ago
  • Transformed - *Transformed* *I hold on in my sleep* *clenched fists* *awakening with aching fingers* *empty hands...* *"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts," * *I think to ...
    2 weeks ago
  • Under the Weather - On the radio today, there was a discussion about conversation starters with strangers. The 'expert' said that people in the UK often talk about the weather...
    2 weeks ago
  • This Job, Not That Job - *What I'm reading: The Trouble with Goats and Sheep by Joanna Cannon* *What I'm listening to: Incomplete by James Bay* Isn't it fun to spend your birthday ...
    1 year ago
  • So Much Green - In the past, I have always visited Horizon in the South African winter, when the reserve is a tapestry of browns, interspersed with vivid splashes of gre...
    1 year ago
  • ... gloriously exciting! - There is something gloriously exciting about anticipating ones next Chad assignment, sitting in the back of the relative comfort of seat 34J, the the dron...
    3 years ago
  • Time-Out - Every now and again in life we come across a bump or hurdle. It can come in our relationships, our finances or as in my case, health. Right now I've been...
    3 years ago
  • thumbs up - it was a battle. looking back i don't think we ever had a chance, but you don't just give up on a young man in the prime of his life. we had to try. he ...
    3 years ago

Tuesday, 7 June 2016

The Mountaineer


​The last 8 years have been tough, the accident, pain, loss of mobility and the job I loved and the plummet into the depths of despair was all made worse by the guilt associated with the effect it was having on those I loved.

Somewhere in all that darkness I found a spark, faith, that ray of light that gave me the strength to start climbing.

This poem is called the Mountaineer...

The Mountaineer

I hated the face in front of me,
the pallid complexion,
puffed up jowls
dark patches under vacant eyes,
that stale unwashed reek
of pain and self loathing
a weak and crumbling vestige.

I stared mercilessly
into its worthless soul,
glaring at the
epitome of everything I despised,
trying to find a merest hint
of strength, courage or drive.

As I searched those dead eyes
pitiful tears started to flow,
my hatred deepened.
I wanted to strike him across the face,
tell him to man up, grow a pair
but more than that;
I wanted to destroy
the sniveling wreck
that stared back at me;
from the mirror.

Deep within,
something fanned a dying ember,
it spluttered briefly,
faltered and dimmed
a mournful sigh breathed life,
made it glow and this time
it stuck.

Fire to fight fire
pain to fight pain
forget hatred, hang it up
put fear and anger aside
and trust, believe, know;
I can, I will
climb the hill.

Looking back down
I see a reflection in a lake,
a tall snow laden mountain
rugged and unyielding
and there, right at the top
a small black speck;
a man standing.

John Carré Buchanan
03 June 2016


8 comments:

  1. I love this very much.

    I have a dear friend going through some nasty cancer treatment right now.

    I would like to print this and give it to him if that's ok.

    Please let me know.

    Well done, good work.

    Ribs

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Ribs, I am glad you liked it, please feel free to use it, I hope your friend's treatment goes well. All the best.

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. Hi, I'm glad you liked the poem, thanks for your kind comment, it was really appreciated.

      Delete
  3. Richard Fleming8 June 2016 at 20:51

    Unquestionably one of your very best, John. This poem has emerged from a very dark place into brilliant light. Congratulations!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your kind comment, I am glad you liked it. Funny how sometimes the best poems take the least effort to write.

      Delete
  4. A powerful poem John, more poignant in the fact that i now understand your unfortunate position over the last few years. Extremely challenging for the driven man i knew from all those years back when we shaped our future. Always a little further.....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, I guess the key is that you just have to keep climbing, something we both have managed to do. Glad you liked the poem.

      Delete

I really appreciate constructive feedback. If you are able to comment it would be most grateful.