Sue Morely

... was born in Hampton Wick, lived in London during her early years and moved to Harlow with her husband in 1969. She has always enjoyed writing poetry and prose , and once she retired from teaching she joined a local art group and, in 2012, the Harlow Writers Workshop. During the 1990s she wrote a novel entitiled The Terbury Trilogy, which she is in the process of completing.

Sea Mist

My battalions gather

masked by twilight

between night and morn

on the southerly air

secretively staying low

riding the foaming horses

to envelope your shore and

numb your surprised flank.

We rise against sea-slicked cliffs

behind summit brows

till battle call sounds

surging forward

engulf your peaks

roll down to obliterate light

sinuously surround trees

and with icy fingers

frost the ground.

Sun alerted

breaks free from clouds

fires rays

retaliates with burning heat

my soldiers forced to rise

evaporate with whispering sighs

thwarted I retreat to plan

my next assault.

Hole in the Rock

Bay of islands stretches before us, tree-clad, ribboned by sandy shores. Beyond, islets like necklace beads hanging in the oceans swell are washed by waves. Here dolphins, inquisitive companions to tourist boats, scull in our wake.

 We ply our course to a fractured headland where a whitewashed lighthouse staunchly stands, against a summer sky. Below its eye broken stacks protect the land from battering waves. One arch remains under the echoing cliffs. There is a hole through which the waves rise and fall.

Each boat stands back from the towering rock awaiting calm waters. Then moment reached our craft rises to the challenge its engine driving us forward. Breath held we silently travel through to pop like a cork on the seaward side.

 

Voices released, our applause and cheers are whisked away on a quickening breeze.

Call of the Selkie

                                        

Nappy free no longer confined             

we toddle towards the sea

our skin caressed by

lapping water’s flow

returning to life before birth

we stamp and jump

splashing the crystal drops

into warm summer air.

 

As teenagers we try it for a lark

agree to a dare, strip bare

and secretly plunge into a pool

giggling on hot summer nights

sharing the stars and the moment

with friends.

 

Adulthood makes us shy

bodies bear the scars of motherhood

we cover with swimwear

that disguises our form while

watching youth parade without guile

in adornments that show glistening

bronzed bodies emerging from the waves.

 

Older now less concerned how others

perceive us we remember

the innocence childhood gave us

comfortable in wrinkled mantles.

 

The call of the waves takes us

to quiet shores with companions

we disrobe in solitude

stride to shore’s edge to wade out,

plunge, immersing tingling skin

in the silk-soft liquid of the waves

becoming the Selkie within us

revelling in the joy of re-found freedom.

HW site Feb 2018

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