Wednesday, 12 October 2011

Local poem: Attempt One - Draft One

Okay - first draft so don't laugh. I write a few more versions before it is finished. let me know what you think.

I spend last Wednesday evening down at the Barbican in Plymouth and so found this from somewhere this morning.

Plymouth Hoe

Sea mist gone.
The path rain-patterned -
blobs of gum,
hammered into liver-spotted
stone by
infinite footfall on 
Friday night.

On its knees it
drags at the skirts of
theatre goers - begging to be
seen, noticed, appreciated. But
the high-heeled harlots beep
their cars awake and hurry home.

And yet, harbour boats
sparkle, lit lanterns sway.
As the rain, come and gone
remains - encasing the cobbles
reflecting what she once was.
Hope cemented in the
cracks and the
seagulls' cry.

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