In my first week, my tutor asked us to write about Plymouth, in a task separate from the rest of my course. Here is my contribution 🙂
The citadel rises high against the horizon,
Surveying the waves below, the sea a slumbering child,
At peace with a dreamy smile, a reminder,
Of plain sailing and summer laughter.
The breeze whispers against the limestone walls,
As they peer down on the picture of innocence.
But these walls shield a wealth of wisdom,
And they are not fooled.
The townspeople are charmed by the child,
Doting on their little cherub,
But the fortress is expecting the inevitable.
The sky darkens, and the breeze is pushed aside,
By racing winds who taunt and tease the sea,
Distorting the peaceful child into a turbulent adolescent.
Consumed in darkness, angst bubbling violently on the surface,
The waves stand and turn on the citadel,
Fists raised against the protector of the people.
Dominance is the game, a war waged between nature and construction.
The juvenile unleashes fury, the echo of lost battles and sailor boys ringing out,
The desolation of shipwrecks and skeletons, too.
400 years of attack, destruction and bloodshed do not rest well on these waters.
The fortress holds it’s ground, resolute against such aggression.
It grits its teeth, withstanding the screams of the sea’s claimed victims,
Resisting the old wounds which open, ignoring the guilt,
For everyone knows that not every life will be salvaged,
Nor every ship returned.