treasured island

Since today is RLS Day,
happy birthday, Mr Stevenson!

Treasured Island –

Home of black, lone or lofty cliffs,
encircled by the screaming sea,
peat dried & burnt instead of wood,
where oil burns in candles’ stead,
barren as ignorance of men,
unaware of blunt
religion –
manured with seaweed,
sewn with gold,
where barley
grows as
and whales
gather with horses’ manes –
where you can find a solid spade,
a safer point of anchorage.

© Nat Hall 2013

In homage to RLS, 13 Nov 2013 —-



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Filed under 2013, 60N, Arcania, atlantic, colours, earth, geopoetics, island, north, poetry, shetland, spirit, verse poetry, wind, writing

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