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Voyages Of The Portuguese
The wife of a lost captain will hide in the sand and await the serpentine. When pearls cease their travel only the silence will awaken the serenity of new islands. Notes 1/ Dona Leonor was the wife of Manoel de Sousa and was shipwrecked with him on the great galleon San Joao off the […]
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Southwark Bells
Let the hasty swimmers pass They will not mock the wild fonts Nor the water levels of markets. The silver sheen that ripples the thunder Will not disturb you In this theatre of loneliness. It is reported that the playwrights John Fletcher and Phillip Massinger were buried in a single grave in […]
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Rave
At Franks in the High Street I ate some infected mushrooms And swam in my own gravity
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Sea (Triptych)
From the lips of his dying father he heard the sounds of the thin tide He saw the slink rats drown in the protective waters of the bay I am the curiosity he thought As his mild eyes becalmed by the sleep of the sea secured the unobtainable
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Reculver Towers
sisters do not recline when you hear the lies of the sea nor ride the blind horses in the sham light
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Bliss Carman
The scarlet maple will shade my head as the roving sun lays warm my bed
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Desco Da Parto
The hedgerows of the wild fields will protect their young as visitors from afar plead their gifts for only then will the kings display their wealth Italian…..birthing tray 1987
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Poems Written with a Consideration of November in Mind
Mill From the mill I can see The morning mists They shade me From the day Amber If the seas Turned amber We would Travel for eternity
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Musical Chairs Painted Red
The Age of Hastings When I pass a gallery I am always Reminded of marzipan Life Class the gallery held a naked viewing the richly costumed subjects watched us with interest Chinese Fading I always see the figurative in your abstract work Crystal Snow She had had her revenge All the roads Have been changed […]
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An Abandoned Poem
Blind Rondeaus and Viktoria When I awoke the storm had passed A passing pheasant Noted that it had enjoyed its dreams But had forgotten to vote I was travelling to Barmouth in North Wales. I had been promised mountains,sand and sea and a desk made of oak where I might write confident letters to the […]