For Alexander Lernet-Holenia

I fall
You fall


A slope on the
Hungarian plain
A frozen river
Ice on the bridge

But still visible
Round ochre logs
And gold

A shield of

In the waterfall
Under the bridge
As we cross

Brown horses
Furry riders

Our caps yellow
Our grey Mongolian

– James Steerforth (© 1981 & 2010)

An older poem posted for One Single Impression and Gold.

A rather sparse (or reluctant or enigmatic) poem more about the selectiveness of memory than anything else.

When I wrote it, I had read several novels and numerous stories by the Austrian writer Alexander Lernet-Holenia (1897-1976), which tend to be a mixture of historical and phantastic.

The scene pictured in the poem is from one of them, even though now I’d be hard-pressed to say which one. But I still remember the image of the Mongolian warriors riding across that wintry bridge in Hungary and looking down on the gold treasure in the river.

About James Steerforth

I am an author of poetry and fiction, translator and painter who loves to have fun with borrowed feathers.
This entry was posted in Creative writing, Enigma, Life, Literature, Nature, Poetry, Serious poem, Sweet dreams and nightmares, Writing and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Snow

  1. Gordon Mason says:

    Enjoyed this. The start with the verb declination then the colour images.

  2. Loch Rob says:

    Unusual take on the prompt. I enjoyed the imagery your poem invoked.

  3. shraddha says:

    very nicely done!!
    i enjoyed it!

  4. Yousei Hime says:

    I wasn’t sure as I began the poem, but as the images built, created a collage, the overall feel and scene were irresistible. Thank you for sharing this.

  5. SandyCarlson says:

    The freedom to ride on, a vision of might!

  6. hames1977 says:

    i like the metaphor for the snow. i imagine the hungarian landscape and i have to find it on my atlas.

    hames here, james. isn’t it weird? i like the name.

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