Friday, 20 April 2018

ROPES IN PADSTOW MUD: A NEW POEM...

Ropes In Padstow Mud


Once ropes like those held luggers fast,
Or barques, laden with Canadian timber,
 Or drifters, returned with herring caught;
But now such ropes lie in glistening mud, cast
Into the undulating slime of time’s slumber:
Some hung with green weed, oddly distraught…

And Padstow’s slick low-tide rivulets stream
Through thick, mired gullies which lure and gleam…

Pete Ray
April 2018



Ropes in mud.

Later submerged in high-tide sea…

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