Monday, 18 July 2011

The battle for Lake Coumshingaun

This is written in the Cinquain Crown form and was composed for a competition. (Friendly competition)

We fought
Our way to you,
Fell in heather and fern,
Pressed through the red pine barbican,
Coy thorns,
Where could be seen
The weightlessness of clouds,
The rain spread heaven’s sore salts, down
Wind’s rage
Coveted us,
Pushing, it gave our lungs
Breath, strength to tread the oil and climb
Stone thrones
The path
Stung like a horn,
We bled, paused and we bled,  
Shone like amber, and we went on
And on
And won.
Lake Coumshingaun,
You lay in the bailey,
Crowned by a dolmen, not saying
A word.

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