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'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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