WORDS OF THE LIVING
(WHITE CLIFFS OF DOVER)
Clifftop rock
The white stone, scraped as if drawn chalk
A clean canvas, a child's plaything
AThe foggy mountain masked in sweet spring
Blackened spots show themselves
Reflecting things about ourselves
Hills and valleys, main roads too
Are scaled
By the sky, a deepened, indigo, blue
Flowing, flying over
The white cliffs of Dover
The rock will rest
As the ferry heads northwest
Out into the Irish Sea
The ferry; that carries me
And as I take; a final glance
The cliffs capture me in their controlling trance
I stare at the commanding expanse
And the ferry hurriedly; heads for France
The image turns over and over
As I leave the white cliffs of Dover
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Words Of The Dead- Words Of The Living- #Wattys2019
Поезія#1 in poetry- 26/7/18 Every day, thousands of people struggle with mental and physical illnesses, fighting battles people refuse to talk about. I'm here to change that. This poetry collection shines a light on mental illness, hopefully saving a few...
