To the Lighthouse

Jeremy1012
Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
edited November 2008 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
The heart flutters and limbs amble,
sharp sputtered breaths splutter
words unheard,
They have become the Corncrake,
a kind declining to a handful.

They left in ebbs,
slipshod over the sand-dunes,
as the sun looms
over the parched mantel.
Sodden and puckered weeds
mix fallen debris with the string wash
at the place where she fell.

No more than a signpost now,
not a wonder. The Pharos souvenir of a gone day,
to print on postcards and look upon
and ponder.
"I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"

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