Poor Poet's Scroll

"No sword
Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, [6]
But one poor poet's scroll, and with 'his' word
She shook the world." - Tennyson, 'The Poet'

I may not shake the world, but I do believe in the power of words.

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2. Outcasts

Snarled and jagged, they’re the outcasts of the land,

pushed to the borders, a sore sight that only sea can bear.

Their song draws the tumbling waves to them,

and then they delight in smashing the blue into white

pearls that fly through the air and fall down, broken.

Buttresses that lead away from land, jutting fragments falling away,

proud beauty, raw artistry,

the work of an ancient god who took chisel to the earth.

Wistful monsters that gaze to the hinterland,

seeking escape and solace.

Impermanent wonders of the natural world,

Here for now, but mother earth is devious

and as Ysbaddaden was slain for the hand of Olwen,

she will find a way for these giants to fall .

 

 

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