'Tangier' A Poem By James Crowden

August 2, 2018

When worlds collide


Rivers of uncertainty

That pull you into their grasp


Tangier and Jellalabad:

One was in Afghanistan


the other in Morocco far from home

and always in collision


with the local population,

Who quite rightly felt that they were put upon.


Yet back at home it was the rivers that rebelled

The quagmire of young tributaries


And squelching ditches

The Maids of Taunton


Sedgemoor no more

The uprising where ideas


Were put to the sword

And hung out to dry


The tributaries of knowledge

Honed down into towns


We know today. Isle be having you

Tone it down a bit, What's brewing?


They live vicariously

This land of summer settlers


Always at odds with itself.

The flood tide pulling the land down


Acres submerged, farms a fathom deep

The bank resuscitated


French weir, the other side of the channel

Shadows dance, between the trees


Plain sailing. Otters live here
Water their demesne


This river, safe anchorage,

Scouting around.


We weave words between the trees

Get a feel for the lie of the land.


Glimpse of the Castle

Hotel for thought.




James Crowden 21st July 2018



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