The Poets’ Walk

Let’s pick some blackberries from the bramble.
They’ve been growing here for years, in shades
Of red and depths of black.
Some sweet, some bitter.
Those poets would have walked and talked here.
The sea cast out to them, with the country at the far end,
Their thoughts kindled on the cliffs. Some would have drifted off,
Some would have printed onto paper.
Some sweet, some bitter.

I had the pleasure of visiting Clevedon, Somerset this weekend. Small, sweet, with salty sea air breezing in. Coleridge and Tennyson are said to have meandered their way along the cliffs, the view and woodland inspiring them both. In the ways of a poet, I thought I’d like to try the flavour of the walk.

4 thoughts on “The Poets’ Walk

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