Sonnet August Nine
From the Rye shore
Star Island was a dream
I raised beneath
burnt haze of afternoon—
a la Shangri-La—or
some ancient regime
in Africa—
say spellbound Cameroon.
It was everything but
one of the Isles of Shoals,
having disappeared
—through vaporous pinholes
in that immateriality—
at sea.
~Son Rivers 2005
A DIFFERENT FOURTH OF JULY
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I have looked for a suitable poem for the 4th of July this year. I examined
several old examples. All the while, however, there was a very unpleasant
feeli...
35 minutes ago
2 comments:
Lovely poem, greg.
There is a spot in Rye coming through a residential tree-lined neighborhood on a gently down-sloping hill with a vista opening on ocean. From this spot, many days, the Isles of Shoals, each island, appear to hover a little above the water, their rocky shores have become tall pale cliffs. It's an eery effect.
Thanks Amy. I think I may have seen that sight too. Very cool.
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