The Pull Of The Tide

Poem By Anthony Dawson

My splendid cargo;
Tossed about on mountains of foam
But not to forever languish


The pull of the tide
Brings gulls to scour
And discoverers of another hour
A chest of promise brings the changing wind;
Of fear; of warmth to outstretched arms


Words cannot work without matching the face
A face has no state if words recede


Outwards, onwards to the sea
Into the ears, the suspicion of eyes,
The faintest cries of honesty

Comments about The Pull Of The Tide

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

4,0 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of DAWSON

Early Morning

Early morning changes my colour,
Weakens my magnet for you to escape into sleep
I asked the girl in the corridor if she was a
Morning bird, she smiled then floated into the

Yelling

Resist the temptation to yell
as this expression gets under my skin;
I shudder and my soul is disturbed.

The Peach Face In The Clouds From The West

I saw your face,

the peach face;

Broken Backs

I stood amid destruction;

water trickled through corridors and pores emulating tears.

At Least Tommorrow

At least tomorrow I can sleep,

ignore the rapid fury of open eyes rasping my presence.

Factory Work

I can't yet hear the grind of the factory
I have just woken and my heart is racing
My heart is a racing fuse
Today I begin life as someone else