Poetry by Winston Plowes

​Weight 

I remember the wind fighting the tide
  the rucking of the swim
 
The jellyfish sting
  on the beach at Fort Belan
 
The ripples’ fizz on the shingle
  signing their names through the sand
 
I remember the little kite
  that never flew
 
Weighed down by stones
  and the memories of you
 

Note - Fort Belan (pronounced: Bell-ann) is a coastal fortress in North Wales built in 1775 by Thomas Wynn. Located at the end of the Menai Strait at the tip of the Dinlle Peninsula, the fort is cut off twice a day by the incoming tide. Fort Belan was the only purpose-built fort of the American Revolution on the eastern side of the Atlantic Ocean. 




Raking Out
 
This fine silver sand
was once a golden promise
ground down by the sea.
 
Permanent red ink
stains her lily petal book
lies underline lies.
 
The ash pan billows.
Leaden dream plumes stripped of wings
stick to the damp floor.

 


Holding On 

I need to touch the fence,
down in the bottom paddock
to reconnect to you
and not let go
six feet from the jagged edge
and the start of relentless blue.
 
I need to take your pulse,
there where you tacked up
chewed the yellow ends of grass stems
whistled for the dog.
 
I need to plug back into the beats
that raced with mine,
to feel the jolts of you
and perforate this void.
 
I need to trace the reassuring click
and warm buzz of you
that happened there
through the haze of august.
 
I need your barbs to close the gaps
more than the metronomic lap of waves
more than the herring gull’s lament
as every three seconds
I’m dead between your spikes.

​

In the summer Winston’s a hare chasing bicycles and winning by miles, in the winter he talks to moths about art, categorises lost jigsaw pieces and tunes the family silver. Each night his word art returns to roost guided by starlight from the pages of journals published worldwide, back to his floating home in Calderdale UK where he lives with his seventeen-year-old cat, Sausage. www.winstonplowes.co.uk 

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