Oh, to be naked and writing by the beach
to hear the summer wind’s winnowing plea.
Basking in white heat alone atop the dunes
safe to savour the siren of the wave’s tunes.
Squinting in sun my eyes upon the horizon feast;
endless expanses of blue from the west to the east.
A place beyond memory or ticking, tocking time
without judgment for all the wicked sins of mine.
…oh, to be naked and writing again beside the sea
to feel the breeze once more kissing my long locks free.
This piece was written on holiday last year, as the poem suggests, at one with nature in a secluded spot on a beach, in beautifully bright Gran Canaria. Revised and edited for reflective effect.
The wind was howling through the trees and it felt as if something was surely about to give way and come crashing down.
Inside his body was warm and his breath invisible, to look out across forest and sea gave him a great rush – to be at the centre of a storm whilst impervious to its violence.
Occasionally the wind would propel small bursts of smoke into the room but otherwise, the castle was a fortress.
That is unless your torment already lies within; steadily he turned to look back towards the library, a single shudder passing through him.
London tonight – is how I feel.
The rain makes rivulets of eels,
Black tarmac and slick pavement,
Wet leather and callous intent.
The wind and the streets and the smell…
I see my torment in its mirror for a spell.
The Sun shone down on us like there was no tomorrow,
Like her light shone so brightly it extinguished our sorrow.
The Moon beamed a glow that was peaceful and wise,
As our fear and discomfort waxes and dies.
The Star looks on the Sun and Moon with nought but love.
These guardian angels of mine – sent from above.
Oh! Summer’s suckled brow –
How long and far are you now?
Pillows of a many painted smile,
Light and bright all the while.
So, dark descends to mine,
The Sun of our heart’s design.
Morning’s eve are come,
Blurring the eyes of some.
In tenebrous flickers,
Our minds in blinkers.
Thoughts of love succumb,
To that of winter’s numb.