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nigel-morganPoems
I I learnt this week that time and distance can be friends to memory their respective lengths only wet and sharpen the edge of love but for us dear friend we hold hard to hope that we may one day soon share the present and live each moment in each other's heart. II Hearing you on Holkham beach - whose soul is greater than the ocean whose spirit stronger than the sea - did I doubt for a moment that you, though buffeted by a cold east wind would never age for me, nor fade, nor die. Nor you for me (she said) Goodbye, my love, a thousand times goodbye. Write me well (she said) and turned and ran. III The Reedham ferry was but a river's width and yet I stood at the water's brink and watched the reeds quiver in the wind, watched the rain splatter on the puddled path. All around to the human eye this valley, a plain of grassland broken only by reed-fringed pools, was a gentle, unpeopled, easy place. The absence of relief left no fixed frame of reference. Places apart from one another would concertina and merge. Tempted to cross I waved a no to the ferryman in his quayside hut then turned and walked quickly back down the long, low road.
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Three Norfolk Poems
I I learnt this week that time and distance can be friends to memory their respective lengths only wet and sharpen the edge of love but for us dear friend we hold hard to hope that we may one day soon share the present and live each moment in each other's heart. II Hearing you on Holkham beach - whose soul is greater than the ocean whose spirit stronger than the sea - did I doubt for a moment that you, though buffeted by a cold east wind would never age for me, nor fade, nor die. Nor you for me (she said) Goodbye, my love, a thousand times goodbye. Write me well (she said) and turned and ran. III The Reedham ferry was but a river's width and yet I stood at the water's brink and watched the reeds quiver in the wind, watched the rain splatter on the puddled path. All around to the human eye this valley, a plain of grassland broken only by reed-fringed pools, was a gentle, unpeopled, easy place. The absence of relief left no fixed frame of reference. Places apart from one another would concertina and merge. Tempted to cross I waved a no to the ferryman in his quayside hut then turned and walked quickly back down the long, low road.
Acknowledgements to Mark Cocker and Tom Stoppard
nigel-morgan
Written by
nigel-morgan
Welsh
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
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