A Poem: Sap


Green the pyramid waves in the wind.
Its hours count down.
The leaves left, looking up,
at the naked pole.

Felling, as the dragon dons its third crown.
Euphoric felling as the task dawns
This mast is heavy.

The Beacon Move,

stones trap mapping lines,

as the brow tight cries,

the pivot raw,

momentum challenged,

yet un-hindered.

the shock of the mass eye that misses.

Deflects the misguided heckle,

In front the old bar gone,

complete the new wood.

in place…

By Alan Whitfield 2012

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Author: alanwhitfield80

Hello! I get about a bit so here about me first. I am a visual artist and poet who works within the context of fine art. My work is grounded in documentary, exploring the inner beauty of everyday life through various lens based media. Notions of nostalgia and social commentary are present, but from a definite northern working class perspective. Instinctively I exploring the townscapes of North Wales and the North West, often producing work that reflects the every day minutiae of life.

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