Poetry Blogs (Samuel)
Nicola Beckett on The Cost Of Your Hand (1 hour ago)
Nicola Beckett on big lots (5 hours ago)
Were you not my watch tower, erect above the chalky cliff
Stone guardian against all, high over the rough tides of my youth?
Was yours not the bastion, planted secure on the high turf:
Whose high walls embraced us and protected?
But that was then, now I am the ascended man -
Now I do not see your turrets from my farther shore
Black waves broke on your defences, your mortar crumbl...
Sunday 10th December 2017 4:05 pm