Gnawing the Permafrost
Buried deep beneath the tundra, frozen bodies lie asleep, waiting for the trumpet call to raise them from their peaty beds. Saturated with the fossilised
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Buried deep beneath the tundra, frozen bodies lie asleep, waiting for the trumpet call to raise them from their peaty beds. Saturated with the fossilised
Peeling back the blackened veins of ancient crust, forgotten fragments whisper soggy secrets. Their enforced exile loosening tongues that now bubble over with stories of
Beneath shadows Of Spring Mountains The rain dove arcs Across a barren sky, Its trembling shadow Rolling listlessly Above abandoned towns Of silver and gold,
Hidden behind the fragility Of a sub-Antarctic archipelago, A speck of shamrock shimmers On a sea of turquoise. Exploding into life this fleck Becomes
Sea air shimmers in the evening haze; The gentle rays from a setting sun Reflect the remnants of the passing storm, Cascading skywards in prismic
Beneath the shimmering surface of the sea Lie tiny specks of hope, Inconsequential fragments of life That work tirelessly to remove The years of smut
A continent of purest blue begins to flow, an unstoppable force That spills towards the sea in cinematic slow motion. Pristine shades of sapphires that
A dynasty of diamonds in the sky, You stretch beyond the hemispheres of sight Scattering stardust like lavish silt as Unseen tidal forces conspire to
Across the dusty plains of southwest lands, An empty dish lies buried in the sands; With taps turned off to nature’s moist supply, As climates
Across the vibrant reefs you snake and crawl, In search of shelter from an unseen threat; The shadows write their names in salty scrawl, Your