Vyšehrad
standing
on the fortress edge
the Vltava
flows below
swirling
eddying
bank bursting
the town old
and newed
holds its breath
above it
vines in
serried lines
blossom late
as Spring
lost itself
in deluge
dark clouds
cold gripping days
this was where
the Slavs came first
and still
we rest upon these shores
despite conflict
and suppression
it is here
on summer days
the children come to learn
and lovers too
caress on grass
whose roots
are theirs
Poetry by Peter Humphreys
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Written on 2013-09-05 at 22:14
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Mark J. Wood |
Lawrence Beck |
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by Peter Humphreys Latest textslifethe grey green sea emboldened beyond beyond we knelt |
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