Jilly serves up the poetry as a guest pub tender at dVerse. She challenges us to write a response poem, a poem that directly replies to another poem. When I saw Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt–distant, I thought of Yeats’ The Lake Isle of Innisfree. I knew he and I needed to talk!
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnightโs all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnetโs wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heartโs core.
Miles from Innisfree
I, too, will rise, but I am miles from Innisfree. I am beside these standing stones that mark a bog’s edge. Water pierces the sea of its entrapping grass like a drowning swimmer. No soft footprints along what passes for a shore, save my own.
Where is my path forward? The bog yields no trail or solid ground. And beyond it, a line of trees before dark foothills–themselves towered over by whitecaps.
Where will I make my cabin? Where, my bean rows and honey hive? Where will I hearย lake waters lapping along a serene shore? Not in a heart too disturbed by the terrible beauty before me.
sweeping clouds …
still walking the long path
to Innesfree
Frank J. Tassone 
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