ALNWICKDOTE These rough stones, carried for miles to build such a Castle, mounted on fields of bitter sweet slopes. Stoned lions, countrified gargoyles hunch, unpouncing; their stiff glares fixed on us fee paying visitors, taking a stroll through the dusty chapters, the library dungeons. And I would suppose this afternoon to be, for us, some piece of history, both strolling through crisis after crisis, hearts beating heart beats and blood warm, flowing through us as we walk between such cold walls, older than a Duke, but never as wise as this love of mine nor as fragile as that historic moment inside the Castle when once you smiled at me so wonderfully. KEITH ARMSTRONG Alnwick Castle, Northumberland (just published in From Both Sides of Hadrian’s Wall. Contemporary poetry from south Scotland and north England)
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 05:28:20 +0000
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