Harbour

As torn driftwood, salt and sunbleached,
battered and storm beached,
Thrown onto broken coasts by waves
colossal and angry: a political itch.

Running from little to nothing,
stumbling strathed by gulls, across damp sand
surveyed by thin-lipped authority,
wrapped in red tape and labelled.

Far away, harbour-bound big ships bob,
Plotting strategic co-ordinates
Stowing no thought for those
vested interests they launch and cast adrift.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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