Here are a couple of interlinked [by virtue of being started on the same day] poems from a brief trip to France last December. You can read the originals here.
I was not happy with the second poem because when I came to look at it again I did not think it told its story clearly.
Île de Batz
the
sea has removed itself
in
the dirty bay the upright boats are patient
the
sea wall
built
by hand in my grandfather’s day
speaks
of a winter tide
gestated
mid-Atlantic
angry
impatient
no
laughing matter
2.
they
have to
have a
second go
surprised
the door
did not shut itself
disbelieving
that the mere act
of
pulling it towards them was
insufficient
The first has lost a line that described the sea wall and is the better for it. I have also changed the spacing to try and set the scene with the first two lines before moving on to focus on the subject of the poem.
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