The red king
Came to a great water. He said,
Here the journey ends.
No keel or skipper on this shore.
The yellow king
Halted under a hill. He said,
Turn the camels round.
Beyond, ice summits only.
The black king
Knocked on a city gate. He said,
All roads stop here.
These are gravestones, no inn.
The three kings
Met under a dry star.
There, at midnight,
The star began its singing.
The three kings
Suffered salt, snow, skulls.
They suffered the silence
Before the first word.
— George Mackay Brown
[Image: David Williamson]
This is really a powerful poem. The rhythm of the red king, yellow king, black king is effective, building to the final two stanzas. I really like this.
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Great choice for the image. “This ends the public road”
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I used to wait each December for the latest GMB magic!
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