Posted by Admin on 25 May 2006, 12:00 am
No gunfire fills the air with awe-inspiring sound.
Long obsolete, this fort, built high above the sea
upon its bull-marked bastion, in silence broods –
a viewpoint now for visitors indifferent
to defence.
This untried stronghold, planned for simple wars,
now innocent of military display, defiant yet,
resigns itself to peace.
Of Palmerston’s strategic follies, one, it hides
on Culver Cliff, unmanned, unarmed, wide open to
its current foe – the vandal with an aerosol
and brush, determined to deface.
And through its muted watch and ward
graffiti insurrection cry.
Originally selected for inclusion in The Hounds of Cridmore and Other Isle of Wight Poems, a book of Mr Hudson’s poetry with many illustrations by Heather Cobb, this poem was subsequently not used owing to space restriction.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.
Village
Parish Council