Of Salt and Shore by Annet Schaap, Trans. by Laura Watkinson (ARC Review) — Pages Unbound | Book Reviews & Discussions (Reblog)

Information Goodreads: Of Salt and ShoreSeries: NoneSource: ARC from EdelweissPublished: October 13, 2020 by Charlesbridge (first published March 2017) Summary Every night, Lampie lights the lighthouse lantern for her father, who has trouble with the stairs due to a bad leg. One night, however, she forgets. The ship that foundered on the rocks will have […]

Of Salt and Shore by Annet Schaap, Trans. by Laura Watkinson (ARC Review) — Pages Unbound | Book Reviews & Discussions

*Nice post and review — find and order the book here

Haiku: A Place in the World

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Footprints in the sand
Histories are re-written
Where do we fit in?

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

*** To view details of our work, click here.

Poem: Pivoting

Photo by Herman. io on Pexels.com

We ran and ran
laughing headlong into the wind
which swept along the shore,
our arms held out like useless wings,
cheeks flushing with life and youth.

When we stopped
we could see where we’d been,
catching our breath
as the waves washed over our feet.
You held me and squeezed, your eyes
the colour of oceans
cool amid those blushing cheeks.

If moments are captured
and etched upon memory,
this was one such point in time
pivoting on eternity

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem: Your House

I’d arrived there at noon
stunned by the view
from your window,
that vast sweep of shoreline.
I had earl grey tea, some carrot cake;
you made do with strong coffee.
You said we should talk, walk,
try to mimic the clockwork sanderlings,
laugh at comic turnstones,
all busy birds of the beach

I hadn’t realised
how far we’d walked.
The polar wind which swept us along
brought stinging tears to my eyes,
though little could detract
from the sight of your house
standing steadfast against the shore;
nothing except for the florid face
all cheeky smiles and winks,
that prodding finger in my side

copyright Francis Barker 2012

Poem ‘Bede’

Bede

It wasn’t at Jarrow where I sensed you
but on Bamburgh’s raging shore,
among the seaweed and razor shells
on gull peppered sands,
its castle brooding behind me
like a huge chiseled tomb.

North waves were scrambling,
spilling memories of guttural voices
disguised in flushing sound;
cries of songs, harps and old tales lost,
fragments I could almost hear
when I turned my head into the wind.

And who was the black figure
bent against the breeze,
absorbing sharp light
on that blinding beach?
I struggled through the dunes,
the little islands of sparse grass
and pygmy flowers —
but you were gone,
extant only in memory,
my boundless imagination,
and in your books
which carry me through centuries
on a primal wave,
each time I read your words

Poem and image © copyright df barker 2012

Poem ‘Your House’

Your House

I’d arrived there at noon
stunned by the view
from your window,
that vast sweep of shoreline.
I had earl grey tea, some carrot cake;
you made do with strong coffee.
You said we should talk, walk,
try to mimic the clockwork sanderlings,
laugh at comic turnstones,
all busy birds of the beach

I hadn’t realised
how far we’d walked.
The polar wind which swept us along
brought stinging tears to my eyes,
though little could detract
from the sight of your house
standing steadfast against the shore;
nothing except for the florid face
all cheeky smiles and winks,
that prodding finger in my side

image and poem © copyright dfbarker 2012