Walcott Sea Front at 7 a.m.

The heavy tide inhales wind
and gasps chilly salty spray,
tangles tongues with rain,
spattering the windscreen.
Gulls mourn bitterly
and in the safety of the car
a voice on the radio
speaks in tones hushed and slow
about the death of a new-born.
The car behind sounds its horn.

Kim M. Russell, 12th April 2017

Walcott Seafront

On Day 12 of The Poetry School’s NaPoWriMo prompts, we’re working with word association  – less about form and more about imagination.

We started forming the skeleton of a new poem using the favourite game of long car journeys and wrote down the first word that came into our heads when we read each of a list of ten words.  Then we used the associated words to write a poem.


4 thoughts on “Walcott Sea Front at 7 a.m.

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