stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19614
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2018-11-07 13:55:31
    [post_date_gmt] => 2018-11-07 13:55:31
    [post_content] => On a Friday night late in November
the Road had come to a stop, falling to pieces. Brought to a stand.
And everything upon it followed and overspread one another.
That Friday night, an unwholesome sea shut out the light
from the eyes of the mind; a beautiful nature to wither away
by the setting sun.

Shadows upon every human creature.
Every beating heart is a secret to the heart nearest it.
Like an evil spirit, a cold mist made its way through.
The Road had made it all.
That golden thread which bound a Life sat still,
listening
to the echoes resounding times when there was love remaining.
Footsteps broke like waves,
passed,
greater echoes coming.

It was the belief we had before us;
it was the hope that comparison was settled for ever.
Now, the journey waiting for completion was not to avoid that most to be dreaded.
The leaves of this book look into momentary lights of spring
playing on its surface;
a sight so touching that humanity came forward to raise from the ground
the curtained light, the perpetuation of that which I shall carry in mine
to my life's end.

I see a beautiful city rising from the abyss.
I see a child who bears my name, faithful and at peace.
I see their hearts weeping and I know I was in the souls who faded away.
All these things came to pass along the Roads that lay before them.
    [post_title] => Different Roads
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => different-roads
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2018-11-07 13:55:31
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2018-11-07 13:55:31
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=19614
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2018
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in the 2018 August Challenge #2 found poems, on Young Poets Network (YPN).

This found poem uses phrases taken from Charles Dickins' novel A Tale of Two Cities which were then re-arranged to create the poem. Extracts were used from Book The First - Recalled to Life: Chapters 1, 2, 3; Book The Second - The Golden Thread: Chapters 7, 21; and Book The Third - The Track of a Storm: Chapter 15.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, 2018 August challenge #2
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 19616
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Sally Liu
            [slug] => sally-liu
            [content] => Sally is commended in Bailey Blackburn's 2018 August challenge #2 on found poems on Young Poets Network.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 19616
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Sally Liu
    [slug] => sally-liu
    [content] => Sally is commended in Bailey Blackburn's 2018 August challenge #2 on found poems on Young Poets Network.
)

Different Roads

Sally Liu

On a Friday night late in November
the Road had come to a stop, falling to pieces. Brought to a stand.
And everything upon it followed and overspread one another.
That Friday night, an unwholesome sea shut out the light
from the eyes of the mind; a beautiful nature to wither away
by the setting sun.

Shadows upon every human creature.
Every beating heart is a secret to the heart nearest it.
Like an evil spirit, a cold mist made its way through.
The Road had made it all.
That golden thread which bound a Life sat still,
listening
to the echoes resounding times when there was love remaining.
Footsteps broke like waves,
passed,
greater echoes coming.

It was the belief we had before us;
it was the hope that comparison was settled for ever.
Now, the journey waiting for completion was not to avoid that most to be dreaded.
The leaves of this book look into momentary lights of spring
playing on its surface;
a sight so touching that humanity came forward to raise from the ground
the curtained light, the perpetuation of that which I shall carry in mine
to my life’s end.

I see a beautiful city rising from the abyss.
I see a child who bears my name, faithful and at peace.
I see their hearts weeping and I know I was in the souls who faded away.
All these things came to pass along the Roads that lay before them.