- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Going home
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Come away to the land of my fathers
Where the winds are bitter and harsh,
With waves that crash on the shoreline
And the mists whisper in from the marsh.
With currents to catch the unwary
And seal pups that cry on the shore
Take me back to it's desolate beauty
To be in it's soil evermore.
There my soul will soar like a seagull
O'er the poppies and waving sea grass
With it's secret hedgerows and byways
And small creatures that watch as you pass.
Lay me down in a country churchyard
When it's my turn to return to the loam
For it's there that I yearn to be resting
In that place my East Anglian home.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 17 years agoSorry, but I'm a stickler on this:
"it's" is a contraction for it is, while
"its" is a possessive pronoun.
I'm sure you meant the latter but used the former.
ishtatalmost 17 years agoThis reminded me a lot of John Masefield.It appealed to me as an Ex pat Englishman though your with first line I thought you were in Wales.
Amyfriendalmost 17 years agoand so down to earth. (pun not intended)I did visit Great Yarmouth once, but it was just a fleeting visit. Nicely done anyway.
GuiltyPleasurealmost 17 years ago...I loved this poem. It's SO English. My senses were all satisfied. I did find the rhythm a bit rocky in places but - over all - I find it delightful.
Welcome to Lit UYS, I will be looking for more of your poetry. You made me homesick for a place no longer there.
Tess
