Fishing Village
S
Sheena Blackhall
0
Altın Yaprak
A Saltire blows on the breeze
Blue ganzies flap in the wind
The sea rocks up on the shore
Near white washed cottages
Like an old grey hippie, kippered with fags
Smoky and tangle haired
Smoke trails from a chimney
Into a mackerel sky stretched out to drying
A gate creaks on its hinges
The sea has no travel documents
No passport no visa
A salt bitten, see-through jellyfish
Is landlocked on the shore
Good riddance say heroic silver surfers
The tide froths in
Like a slut's soiled bedding
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş