Hungry Hill

Hungry Hill

By David Jordan

Alone by Hungry Hill

On my 23rd birthday

I sat on a rock outside my tent

In the still, star encrusted night.

The hard moon became a jazz singer

Crooning a birthday tune.

Calm idyll,

Beatnik song

Of crazy sorrow and solitude.


Alone by Hungry Hill

I found the perfect pastoral place

But there was no escaping my

Ennui, my sadness, my pain.


I thought I knew nothing.

O how right I was!




Here’s a poem inspired by Yeats, in particular the poem, Fergus and the Druid. Hope you guys like it. Thanks to everyone for reading my poems!



By David Jordan

 I like to smell the fragrant ink first,

A ritual before reading.

Then turning the leaves engenders tiny zephyrs,

Words exhaled from the West

And I am spellbound by this

Cool mint magic,

This slim slate of joy,

This clean, smooth slice of Paradise.


‘Who would have thought such a

Small thing could take over, occupy

My thoughts and dreams like a

Floating, stellar parade?’


The druid replied ‘it is the price of

Dreaming, to be crowded so.

That dreaming wisdom you longed for is


Did you think you could get it for free?


Not so.


‘Now go forth and help restore the

Lost art.

The dreaming wisdom is yours.’

And with that he left me

Thinking about the lost art and what

It could possibly mean.

And then I picked up my pen and,

Slowly, I began to spell.