Poetry Blog by Graham Sherwood
Steep Holm basks in a midday haze,
a putty coloured turtle
treading water off Brean Down,
its land eases from the water
like a scarab, an unpolished olive dome.
Fifty years have passed, unchanged
save for the Down’s umbilical
thread of metal homes, which
from my vantage, necklace it to the shore.
The ebbing tide irons the final creases
from the sands with one last ri...
Saturday 19th May 2018 2:47 pm
Wednesday 2nd May 2018 10:58 am