Lorna, King Lear And Portrush

an old man remembers...

A seafront full of salt; a lost girl

And a wind that puts space between us.

The rain has stolen my voice,

My face numb with a thousand needles.

A big dirty of a tide; a flood wind

Sly as a gull`s dive over a black sea.

And if I shouted King Lear, drunk and eternal

At the stars full of cold distance

Then that was the back of my eye,

A burnt picture soaked ; the real camera.

Reviews

[Archangel Gabriel]

Another piece full of synecdoche. Loved most of it but in particular the image provoked by 'Sly as a gull`s dive over a black sea'. All of your writing Leslie is such a pleasure to read even if some goes over my head!'

[Daniel Sala]

A lovely choice of words which conjure up the images, a nice poem to read, understated and meaningful.