The Nomad


The nomad crossed the failing light,

Into the pregnant moon,

Diana’s long lost daughter

Reunited on the wind,

As twilight breeze bore desert sand

And opalescent bloom,

E’er driving on the nomad

As she arched her wings and grinned.

What force can halt the woman who won’t tread upon the earth?

A fleeting barren wasteland to the nomad’s wanton eye.

Laissez-faire on sea and air,

Why fight the flow of earth’s sole snare?

When verdant field in time will yield

Too wet,

Too hot,

Too dry.

So onward drives the nomad,

Crossing deserts and dark plains,

Swooping into valleys,

Cresting ridge by crescent light,

Chasing after shadows in a sea of pitch black stains,

Coalescing round her head to mar her moonlit flight.

But darkest piracy of thought

Won’t shy her from her course,

Horizon in her sights,

Promise spurring in her side,

Gliding like an angel

Driven by demonic force.

Always fleeing failing light

And truths no night could hide.


28 thoughts on “The Nomad

    • I’m glad, Copious. Poetry’s not my favourite medium, truthfully, but I do love to paint a story. I think that’s why Yeats is my favourite poet. Cheers for the compliment. 🙂

    • Aww, shucks, thanks Sophie. Anything to alleviate your tedium. ^^

      And that sounds like one stately cat. But then, even a cat can look at a King, as an old friend of mine used to enjoy saying.

      Sometimes I reread the things I write and wonder if I’m 60. Then I see my hands and realise that no, no you’re not Ryan… o.O

      Ahem. Much love to you, m’dear. 🙂

    • Classics! ‘In Xanadu did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree…’ Two of my favs, Steph. If I had to pick an absolute though, it’d be The Second Coming by Yeats. A bit mainstream maybe, but still, potent. ^^

      And cheers! 🙂

      • Hey, there’s nothing wrong with mainstream. Coleridge is hardly ‘out there’ although death and life-in-death casting dice on the bow of a ghost ship is pretty damn awesome!

  1. Such beauty…half-Greek-half-Latin poet Pyronius. Arête!
    tali pulchritudine. sidera verbis eius cecineruntque molliter. honorem … comburuntur. verbis mulcere lacrimis mare. celeres fugae, et vera. scribere. igni. est via nostra. meus amicus. mea stella poeta. 😉

  2. I often feel like a nomad, poring through the back alleys of the city, with these delusional thought running mystifyingly through my thoughts, often taking on a journey with out and control.

    toad world of delusion

  3. Greatly moved by the poem, though I dare say, the title and the picture would have sufficed for both understanding and feeling – Magnificent creation!

    • I know, right? That image is breath taking, I’m a sucker for fantasy art. I found it online, but can’t locate the artist to give an image credit. It’s signed ‘Valiant’, if anyone knows where it’s from, let me know. 🙂

      And I’m glad you enjoyed it. ^^

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