MoodsA Poem by Chris Shaw
no doubt when red kites near home
alert me to their imposing presence when their squeaky shrill whistles resound through chilled country air as they circle overhead in search of juicy earthworms or dead prey when i pine for Brixham harbour as frost clings to the last of leaves and thoughts scatter to the wind to that raucous rattle of metal masts from pristine yachts in neat rows that dance to wild gusts wailing to pings of rigging in varied keys strange tones, medleys of madness a cacophony of jarring sound from marina's pontoons that ring in ears a percussion of discord of all that reminds me of ocean's fickle nature
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Added on October 19, 2020Last Updated on October 19, 2020 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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