beyond far

farewell the flowers
so long the rain
the mossy walks
and airy strains
of the winds
upon the hill
goodbye the haunts
adieu the blue
of long Junes
and deep nights
of the ghosts
of wishes past
I want to run
beyond the reach
of our moon
to fly far
from goodbye
outrace the trace
of no more
left by your fingers
in the salt
of lost shores
farewell the flowers
so long the rain
goodbye my love
I want to run

© Sarah Whiteley


  1. Sarah, you are a master of the unrequited, melancholy poem 🙂

    I’m not sure about all people (well, probably the word “all” answers the question). But, I know that some writers and poets produce their work from a place really deep inside. It’s not just fancy wordsmithing.

    Well, that’s certainly a fine part of it, but of course this is also a way of allowing certain emotional ~ creative energies to surface, manifest, etc.

    Because if these energies don’t, it’s not easy to drink enough to keep them still and quiet (Did I say that? Too much honesty, and anyway, I had to stop that sort of behavior a loonng time ago).

    So we write emotional realities that come from places that may not have street addresses in the “objective” world. But they certainly have real locations in the heart.

    For the poet such as yourself, they are certainly as real. Or more so…



  2. You’re right. They do come from a deep-hidden place. And I learned not so long ago (the reason for starting this blog) that if I don’t get these energies out, I am deeply unhappy and troubled. No longer myself. It’s an outlet for the things I cannot say otherwise.



  3. dear ebbtide,

    melancholy hits me when reading this poem. goodbyes and the long nights are definitely the symptoms of unrequited love.

    maybe, in the recesses of the heart, there is a picture of someone still clinging there, after all these years. and it’s honestly true. with me.

    all the best.



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