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'Tangier' A Poem By James Crowden

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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