I’m tired tonight, too tired to even write a five minute haiku. So, I decided to look back at things I’ve posted before and choose a poem for this week.
I’ve spent ages looking and there’s still more. I’m totally amazed at how much poetry I’ve written, even if lots of it is of little consequence.
So with apologies in case you remember this from four years ago, and for the lack of image.
Waves of Foam
Foaming ocean laps the Jurassic shore
where molten lava once seared and pitted
into burnished pockets of chalk
that glow pale in the shallows
where volcanic flame no longer scorches
earth but in its place frozen fluid
turned to stone in the countless millennia
before mankind’s dawn
then lapis and bronze lay down its mineral
to adorn sweet womankind’s questing hands
and feet that step through warm golden sand
above the azure sky reflects light
from the firmament holding the source
of celestial waters in balance
Normal service will be resumed next Thursday with a haiku!
Two tonnes of sand being delivered, where there’s no space for two tonnes of sand. Oh well it’ll be worth it in the end!
A glorious spectrum of colour permeates these organ pipes at Sagrada Familia.
A pretty emerald lake at Stourhead.
The much photographed Lively Lady has been fishing out of Beer for many years.
Now isn’t Drang an odd name for a street? It’s in Padstow, Cornwall and there’s a gallery with the same name.
The D’Oyly Carte’s were the family behind Gilbert and Sullivan, this Iolanthe poster is at Coleton Fishacre, a National Trust property that was once their home.
This area calls itself the beginning of our Jurassic coast, but the stone is in fact even earlier, Triassic sandstone, and a mile or so further east, the cliff changes to chalk, towards Beer on the horizon. I was looking to see if there has been any further erosion.
I was immediately stuck by the pink line that looked like a sand bar. It isn’t, just the sun sliding through low clouds.
I walked the length of the seafront, mesmerised.
The sky became increasingly dramatic.
I snapped away happily and stared, probably with my mouth open.
The view was lovely right to the end of the path. My hands were frozen by then, so I found shelter, and tomato and paprika soup in my favourite sea front café, Mocha. I even got the best seat, in the corner with a high stool by the window.
Lucid Gypsy 