This grey sea is still and cold beneath
an ancient slope of grass-clad granite.
Such dark depths, a forbidding murk
of bladderwrack and kelp that
drowns its secrets, deceiving those who
watch from shore while tranquil waters
gently lap at sand and shell.
Instead of grinding ocean's rage,
the mill of tides lies silent.
No storm's fury or clawing foam
tearing stone from stone and
breaching harbour wall,
No wild, white horses seething,
racing over the waves.
And this slight curl of slack water
merely hints at wrecks of lives
and love.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems 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...