This post comes courtesy of my friend and fellow writer Mr W. F. Gadd. It comprises the full text of his 2015 poem Ascension, the first time it has been published. Readers will not miss the thematic and linguistic connections the poet makes with the Romantics, and perhaps also the wild lyrical reverence of Gerard Manley Hopkins. The work draws on past eras of speech but also creates its own contemporary vision: this is a poet unafraid to stand on the shoulders of giants. At the risk of embarrasing Will I might also say that when I first heard the poem read, there was more than one person gathered who reported the feeling that they were "in the presence of greatness." I hope you will agree.
P. Julian
28 August 2018.
Ascension
Wide across the pink-green heath,
Bracken spread gorse choked,
'Neath the falling turgid,
Payne's-Grey sky of doubtful cloud,
Came a cry echoed off the humid air,
To announce defiant belief.
Distant 'gainst this theatre grand,
A bird tiny swooped to dash its fear,
Tumbling mad and set to die,
It sang its cry mocking the height,
And free-falling dire the heavy mud,
There waiting to catch its dive to land.
I a song heard to make me rise,
Mine the dark mood briar-bound sad,
Yet, her the chorus sweet of soul defeat,
And the heath-like spread we each fail,
Choked me to fall to tumbling waste,
Yet the Lark silent regains the highs.
Whither comes the haunting stark?
Bleak windswept grass-thoughts to bend,
Rains of panic piercing our mindful hides,
We tumble yet not on determined wing,
Or bank the breeze teasing fear not there,
But dwell the night with thoughts of dark.
The Lark less the day gone sun,
Swoops and curls to tempt broken end,
Wailing as heart-snapped maid lost of man,
Thrilling upward eyes and scurried toes,
Seeking home afore shadow-time lost,
Yet she knows well, all un-safe is done.
Now her final swoop in fair day past,
Twisting, joyous, free, absolved of blame,
And spent of playful mischief sung,
Her call to never give up but ride the air,
To fly discourteous wafting over fear,
Cheating doubts of chosen path.
Lark: free and curling, now does sleep,
Love her --'neath star-sparkled hope,
Unseen in dreams of daring, singing cry,
In sometime frailty we rise with you,
Earth's breath to fill our pride achieved,
To swoop and weave such sky we weep.
W. F. Gadd - MMXV
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