deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Price of a Postcard
The sun-blessed salty sea breeze, cries beneath the
lemon trees. The old soaked boat 'The Devil's Coat', bobs the harbour,
sails a moat. The pier stands half-chocked with blocks of sugar rock, a
carnival swings lively as the droning tourists flock. The dried-out
grass of summers past, waves beneath the navy, and where her guns were
cast. The church tower's steely glower, stretches far beyond the
petalled bower, it's bells ring out the morning tout, and repeat it
every hour. From silk-glass windows the summer glows and reflects upon
this scene it knows, the island grew from the peace it knew, to the
strain that it now shows. The castle walls, the policeman's gate, the
splendour lost, the puffin's fate, the dolphin fins they use as bait,
for auld lang syne you shouldn't wait, to save it now, is much too late.
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lemon trees. The old soaked boat 'The Devil's Coat', bobs the harbour,
sails a moat. The pier stands half-chocked with blocks of sugar rock, a
carnival swings lively as the droning tourists flock. The dried-out
grass of summers past, waves beneath the navy, and where her guns were
cast. The church tower's steely glower, stretches far beyond the
petalled bower, it's bells ring out the morning tout, and repeat it
every hour. From silk-glass windows the summer glows and reflects upon
this scene it knows, the island grew from the peace it knew, to the
strain that it now shows. The castle walls, the policeman's gate, the
splendour lost, the puffin's fate, the dolphin fins they use as bait,
for auld lang syne you shouldn't wait, to save it now, is much too late.
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Published 28th Nov 2009
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28th Nov 2009 4:26am
2nd Jun 2011 2:14am
I really admire those that have such skill in elizabethan era style. Maybe I shld come ovs for lessons. I'm always ready. great poem highway.
