Iceland

a poem by Dale Costello, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

Oh Iceland are you still real
that place I began
Irish and love
blessed by Icelandic blood
Viking and weary ship
green and white
fields and stone
snow capping the stone wall
and then the train comes through
someone complains about the noise
I think it’s me
yet that’s okay
if I’m complaining to myself
although quickly
the complaints rival the noise of the goods train
I can’t take it anymore
I throw my hat in
stand on it looking mean
knows one sees this
knows one knows one when he sees it
pointing out
I’m alone in the room
but for the conversation...

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