By the hard side
of the shore,
abutments jutting out
into raging waves,
I paused,
an incessant gale buffeting
my puny frame.
Dark promontories
primed me through sea mist;
they caught my gaze,
my historic sense,
like the herring gulls circling,
riding the howling wind.
I sensed you there,
your sea-grey eyes
staring into nothing,
your soft sing-song voice
of the Borders,
ready to spoil me with sweets,
port and lemon clutched
in your wizened hand.
Somehow you were left
in this nebulous place,
our collective cries screaming
“mother! mother!” —
plaintive calls unheard
in an entangled realm of souls,
given over to the elements.
Copyright Francis 2021
The Elloe Recorder 
You know how a good novel writer can capture the reader with their first line? That’s what you’ve done with this poem. Lovely visuals throughout the work. Nice job.
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Thank you 🙏🏻
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The gulls circling, the howling wind, the cries “mother! mother!” – wonderfully penned.
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You describe how being by the sea can sometimes carry us into the deep waters of memory very poignantly.
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Yes, thank you 🙏
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Thank you 🙏
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Thank you 🙏
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The edge of the sea is definitely a place of mingling–both elemental and spiritual. You have captured this well. (K)
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I sensed you there,
“your sea-grey eyes
staring into nothing,
your soft sing-song voice
of the Borders,
ready to spoil me with sweets,
port and lemon clutched
in your wizened hand.”
A very vivid and poignant image.!
JIM
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