A Second Scrap Of Notes-Gone-By
That’ll be distracting.
The Stag Upon The Brean Peninsula: Epilogue
I told her of the stag of memory; of th’earth; of private moments lived; of th’night.
The Stag Upon The Brean Peninsula: III
With gracile step, agilic poise, ‘n purity he’d leapt from th’dark off to my right-side.
The Stag Upon The Brean Peninsula: I
Lapped waves wash, broken-crested – I am young.
The Stag Upon The Brean Peninsula: Prologue
T’was o’er ‘n through this coastly scene we traced the tracks of mem’ry.
Another Poem
I write another poem for to reassure someone (Me?) that nothing will hinder.
Day 10
Small pilot boats ‘n ridden rafts threw cheers toward the hull, their voices smashing gladly ‘gainst the iron.
Day 9
A gull alit, a-lightly, on a length of timber as the timbre of its undulating call caused crashing waves of echoed sound to bridge the Avon. It preened at its grey-tinged feathers before pacing the abutment’s edge.
william altoft 