by Peter Humphreys

fool that I am
bewitched by the sun
I set off for Lacken

head down
'gainst the deep hurtful rays
my feet squelched
in the bog flooded bog
damn it
this is heavier going
than I thought

resting on a turf bank
I could see out t'ards the sea
the morning mail boat
rode the waves around the head
wild horses stormed the pebble beach
the spume from their heads
joined to make long rainbowed manes
blowing eastwards to England

my spine began
to warm
the back of my head froze
as my face warmed

I felt seduced
as the deepest mist
rolled down the mountain
rebelling against the sun

I was so cold now
so very cold
ill-dressed for this deceit

I curled up
midst the heather bed
and fern

they said he was a kind man
always a smile
but a loner really
a bit sad in the eyes

the magistrate recorded

but why was he smiling
when found
rigid like bogwood
clasping white heather
in his hand


Posted on 11/21/2014
Copyright © 2021 Peter Humphreys

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/24/14 at 11:00 PM

One can feel the bone cold of this, the wild beauty, especially those horses, and the call to just let go. Thanks for this.

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