Yorkshire (Remove filter)
The Voyager's Song
The Voyager's Song
I see the shoreline,
black and unremarked
sleeping in secret, supine,
an open door, strong
as a broad Yorkshire
voice,
weak as rags of sea mist.
Soon I shall fetch upon its sands,
where cold silence reigns
uninvited like the early dawn.
Beside me shall burn,
in isolation and awe,
the last bright flower
of an ancient memory...
Friday 19th January 2018 2:43 am
Recent Comments
Holden Moncrieff on Better Sight...
53 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on 'What can writers and poets possibly do in the age of Trump, Farage and Starmer?'
1 hour ago
Mike McPeek on Civilities
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on EVEN THE OLIVES ARE BLEEDING
2 hours ago
John Marks on EVEN THE OLIVES ARE BLEEDING
3 hours ago
Hélène on Better Sight...
3 hours ago
Hélène on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
3 hours ago
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
4 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Where is THIS Jerusalem?
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A Cut Above
5 hours ago