Be still, you ancient, rumbling foam,
Tearing fast the ribbon sands
Beneath this low-slung, graveyard sky,
And let the marram grass whisper softly o'er the towans.
Hark! A clanging bell for lost wild love,
For dreams cast far upon the waves,
On journeys turned from sunset's shimmering path
To bleak and cruelly colder seas.
Quiet your rage, you restless deep,
Tossing spume like Sirens' spittle,
And drown this stone-dressed, shivering shore
In the baleful darkness of your tides.
9th November 2017
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Fragments And Reflections
कविताPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
