Posted by Admin on 25 May 2006, 12:00 am
Viewed as a series of geometric patterns,
infinitely complex, the scene bewilders –
seen as nautical enigmas, non-Euclidean
and unsolved, it engrosses and appals.
Becalmed and vertical, the planes, simple,
white, triangular, drift into superimposition,
linger, move, and overlap anew.
Ashore, on signal halyards, also in
dynamic doldrums, bunting, motionless, depends
above King William’s cannon.
Behind the battlements a count-down starts –
the yachts manoeuvre, crowd still more
a cluttered line.
The starting-gun releases tension – cuts
required mathesis to the Island’s tidal lore.
From The Hounds of Cridmore and Other Isle of Wight Poems, a book of Mr Hudson’s poetry with many illustrations by Heather Cobb.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.
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