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PER MARE PER TERRAM

Chant du monde boréal
Shoormal.
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.


CHRONICLES FROM ARCANIA

Preamble

Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.


Wednesday, 19 October 2011

pictorial


...Can you hear it, can you hear it screaming? Oppressive, with shafts of madness, burning white. It holds bolts of hailstorms; unleashes ice, surgical blades, beyond belief and darkens wings of all angels... It holds hostage our precious sun, and will not beg for redemption.
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4 comments:

  1. A Heron's View20 October 2011 at 12:39

    Other than the incensed air of wood fires inlaced with the smoke of turf from the hearths of Erin. I hear no sound, nor sight of the icy gale that re-carves your island with it's might.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nat Hall20 October 2011 at 23:55

    Could be the start of a following stanza, Sir Heron. Love crossing the ocean & the Irish sea!
    Thank you for your contribution :-)

    ReplyDelete
  3. A Heron's View23 October 2011 at 21:21

    Not for publication.

    Dear Nat,

    I too have now written about a recent storm you will need to pay a visit to

    http://wordsofaramblingmind.blogspot.com/


    Regards,
    Mel

    ReplyDelete
  4. Nat Hall26 October 2011 at 20:04

    Nice one, dear friend :-)
    The "Big Sky" remains a constant source of inspiration :-))

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