James Rose

The Beach in Spring: Morning

A silver whiteness
Meekly probes the dull dome of the sky,
Casting slender shadows
Of Lowry men,
Trudging, trudging.

Boisterous foam lines
Tumble the sea’s uneven slates,
Riding the wave train
Out of the mist,
Roaring, roaring.

Calligraphic seaweed
Splodges a black ink line
Marking wet from dry,
Tides defying.
‘No pasarán! No pasarán!’

Herring gulls decry
The broken promise
Of the morning,
Harshly chiding.
‘Break through! Break through!’

Copyright © James Rose 2014

James Rose I am a retired physician who started writing again seriously in the last year or two.

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About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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One Response to James Rose

  1. I love the movement of your poem. It takes me walking down the beach, enjoying the drama of it.

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