A social site for poets in Sydney.
Up in the warm womb of Heidelberg
surrounded by lush sub tropical plants
palms, and the song of the Thrush
embraced by the ever changing skyline
wave riders, and Atlantic winds:
the stream of consciousness flows...
Added by Cynthia Lewis-Jones on June 19, 2011 at 23:30 — No Comments
......it was a few days out past the island of Haiti, and stories of the White Witch of Rose Hall, where the rough indigo blue of the Atlantic became the far gentler turquoise waters of the Caribbean. (I was only eleven years old) . The Atlantic ocean seemed like a lonley and desolate expanse to me: the murky blue waters,extending all the way out to the horizon, on all sides, the ocassional passing of ships, the constant churning of the waves, the eternal rocking motion of the…
ContinueAdded by Cynthia Lewis-Jones on June 11, 2011 at 10:30 — No Comments
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