Belmont Village
Belmont wallows in westering twilight,
sheep graze in cold pastures,
hares scamper, ignoring
a circling hawk.
Blackpool's urban sprawl crawls off
up to the scarred horizon, the Tower
pricks the heavens like a syringe
and spills the blood-red sun.
Evening falls, I'm all alone
and free to stare, a wondrous,
star-flecked firmament,
a phosphorescent flare!
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment