Thursday, 31 October 2013

MAWGAN PORTH, OCTOBER 2013...

 
Frying Pan

Eyes ruffled and frowning
Into such a lambasting bluff,
Hurled, whining into the valley’s curve
By a mardy, disagreeable squall;
Unwilling to be photographed,
As gingerly I stepped upon hard sand’s slick film
Of shimmering brine.
 
And then, as if stir-fried,
The gale sizzled surf through rivulets, along grooves,
Towards my damp boots, snapping with verve:
But I snapped too, holding on to my nerve…
 
 
Strange, sizzling strips of water attacked me on Mawgan Porth beach...
Weird...
 


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