Poems written by Nicholas Rowe, from the small island of Guernsey in the Atlantic Ocean.
Far from the fumes, our
polluted illusion in
clear resolution.
~
A distant hum outlines the
silence. The falling sea settles in
oily currents by the rocks.
~
A large gull slowly flaps above the
channel, pitches, meets its reflection, splashing
sofly, drifting backward on the tide.
~
A caterpillar crawls in
the hot white sand. A magical bird
flutters in shimmering light.
~
Black smoke joins a brown
band staining the horizon,
car engines straining.
Prickly gorses brown
and grey – flowering yellow
by the blue green sea.
~
And in between an earthy
path that dips and weaves with stones and shells,
heading through my memory.
~
Close, far, elusive
as a star, sublime. Other
place and place in time.
Prickly gorses brown
and grey – flowering yellow
by the blue green sea.
~
And in between an earthy
path that dips and weaves with stones and shells,
heading through my memory.
~
Close, far, elusive
as a star, sublime. Other
place and place in time.
I had time to think,
standing by the sea. My main
challenge is clear – me.
~
Suddenly, I feel full of
hope. I know what to do, to become
the person I aspire to.
~
But first I shall stay,
to be one with this world of
passing winter grey.
Silver purple night –
same light that barely traced a
paltry evening disk.
~
Ceaseless resonance of sea.
Clear oystercatcher call travels through
this cool amphitheatre.
~
Clarity of mind,
fine-tuned, no longer blinded,
sensing inner self.
