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e-ebdale
English Born and bred in Essex but hailing now from Scotland, I find inspiration both in nature and the worlds inside my head. I long to emulate the words of Hughes, Plath, HD, Motion, Elliot and the prose of Winterson. / / Constructive criticism is always welcome, and is indeed asked for.
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Ululations break the night – Primal lows meandering over marsh: The voices of creatures curious and lost, Alien to these muddy shores. Spectral under first-light obscurity, The estuary’s fog swathes those beasts, Slick hulks rippling the dark water With trailing wakes of brackish grime. Bank side, a lonely smudge stands sentinel, Helpless to heed the low mourning song Trembling across the fen. These wearisome keens are muted in murk And all sound is swallowed By the rallying dawn.
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 11:53 AM UTC
e-ebdale
A Morning on Tilbury Marshes
Ululations break the night – Primal lows meandering over marsh: The voices of creatures curious and lost, Alien to these muddy shores. Spectral under first-light obscurity, The estuary’s fog swathes those beasts, Slick hulks rippling the dark water With trailing wakes of brackish grime. Bank side, a lonely smudge stands sentinel, Helpless to heed the low mourning song Trembling across the fen. These wearisome keens are muted in murk And all sound is swallowed By the rallying dawn.
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