Outside and Inside the Mountain

As I get older, I get more convinced that the true essence of a moment is better expressed in poetry than in prose. This is an idea that I intend to return to later. The trouble is that I am less convinced that I am personally up to the task.
Take today’s poem for example. It’s about the visit to the International Friendship Exhibition in the DPRK. There is a perfectly good prose description of its theme elsewhere in this blog but right from the start I wanted to put it into a poem, even before I’d written the prose version.
I tried at least half a dozen times using assorted verse forms and with a distinct lack of success. Tonight I have come a little closer, close enough at least that I’m not ashamed to present the poem. I’m still not completely happy with it though, not least because it feels a clichéd, to me.

Outside and Inside the Mountain

Outside the mountain,
.....the ground was red and dry,
.....though a lowering sky
.....threatened rain.
Inside the mountain,
.....the marble halls were cold:
.....held their gifts of gold
.....in endless train.
Outside the mountain,
.....twisted figures – broken, bent –
.....through the gloom, went
.....about their toil
Inside the mountain,
.....silent soldiers watched with care
.....the treasures hoarded there
.....the monster’s spoil.
Outside the mountain,
.....the mortal truth of brutish life,
.....of endless pain and strife
.....against all odds.
Inside the mountain,
.....immortal lies displayed in halls
.....by those who slyly call
.....themselves the gods.