a call to arms

unusually
but not
for the first time
I set off on my journey
to the Point
with a degree of reluctance

a sun blessed morning
of gentle wind and wave
had
almost unnoticed
been insinuated
by rising ranks of black cloud
across Belfast Lough
Carrick and Whitehead
had lost the glow of early morning
and now the glower
of dark brooding
slate grey clouds
remained

I met them first
unexpectedly
sitting
not lying
in a hollow at the Point
they startled
so deep was their quietude

I walked on
with a quiet apologetic hello

there was distress in their silence

I chose a spot
where I could not intrude my prescence
and watched the Liverpool ferry pass
I searched for shells and crabs
in the rocky inlets
but kept a weather eye
on the gathering gloom
a yet unspoken storm
sphagnum
golden lichen
wrack beds
squabbling gulls
my constant distraction
but still I thought on them
the girl with the blonded hair supplied
the young man
dark
cropped back
body bent to the wind

somehow
in my ramblings
they must have overtaken me
on the path
for as I walked to Groomsport
there they were
as one as they could be
face to face
his expressionless
resolved
deadpan
hers weeping
yielding
fawnlike
both ready
as for war
exhausted by
too many
long goodbyes



Poetry by Peter Humphreys
Read 810 times
Written on 2009-08-06 at 13:29

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Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
So very atmospheric Peter, you draw the reader into your part of the world with your wonderful descriptions :-)

I hope that you are well this summer, a pleasure to read you

Elle x
2009-08-06


Brian Oarr
Thank you for sharing your inspiring, and yet, very personal morning trek, Peter. All of us, at one time or another take such walks, but few of are quite so skilled at relating them poetically.
For me, your words ...

"the glower
of dark brooding
slate grey clouds"
... were especially moving.

A joy to read.

Brian
2009-08-06