Soul Pressed Poetry

Poetry that comes from our soul.

wreaked (16 July 2011)


nowadays when I go for a run
I run to the bay
where the ships
wreaked themselves on the rocks

it was a common scene
back then, some made it
some didn’t. I wonder
when the lighthouse got built…

I run to this bay because the quarry
got shut down
and now the naked cliffs
are slightly gorged

and it feels ok to scream

Leave a Reply

Required fields are marked *.