Before Laurence survived bone cancer,
Chemotherapy and everything, he swam,
Competed nationally and internationally,
But afterwards rowing became his gram.
He was born on August the 29th in 1991,
And comes from North Yorkshire, moors,
He went to Hurworth House and Polam,
Schools, he won triathlons for his spoors.
Taking up rowing in 2011 at the Tees RC,
He competes in TA mixed double sculls,
And initially he raced with the able-bodied,
But now enjoys para-rowing which gulls.
So in Alguebelette in France at the Worlds,
2015, he and partner Lauren came second,
And in Rio, the open stage of the strongest,
The two secured the gold, rightly reckoned.
Categories:
spoors, sports, strength, water,
Form: Rhyme
NEAT AND TIDY
astute as a Mermaid
calculating cards
blameless at daylight
night less her dark
yearning a past when
selfish shellfish
blades were placed
out of time
out of mind
she waits from within
sea bed rocks of stone
beneath the coral glass
veneers of harsh deathly
calamities
blood spoors of
austere tragedies that
stain yet remain
bodybeached seagarbage
raw gashed lurid
grievously purpled
lie stagnant in rock pools
hidden by pure white sand
shells and claws of
re mottled pores
like tapestries on
forgotten shores
she casts tales
and slides into
forgotten times
© Kim van Breda—3 October 2015
Categories:
spoors, mythology, ocean,
Form: Imagism
in India’s heat
the spoors of a lone creature. . .
leading to water
in a shallow pool
the solitary beast bathes. . .
sun pours down golden
a lame gaur wanders
near the tall yellow grasses. . .
the crouching tiger
around the carcass
two females join in to feed. . .
benevolence reigns
racing with shadows
as dusk steaks the orange sky. . .
the Bengal tiger
Written 7/29 for Shadow Hamilton's New Contest Tigers Living Free
Categories:
spoors, tiger,
Form: Haiku
On heaven's clouds I
walk,
Making soft and gentle
spoors.
Each pressing step,a
knock,
Cadence as I made my
tour.
As I stood in awe and
adore,
The glory that lays
ashore.
A magnificence I could
not ignore,
The heaven's radiant
door....
Glistening with light,
The door brings great
delight..
Awaiting are my loved
ones,
Who were long gone...
Overwhelmed by the
bliss of holding hands
With lost friends....
The other side of the
door brought me peace,
I believe will never
cease....
Categories:
spoors, life,
Form: Rhyme