Edwin Brock

(19 October 1927 – 7 September 1997 / Dulwich / London / England)

The Sea, The Sea - Poem by Edwin Brock

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In a house
at the edge of a cliff
you can hear the sea
even with the windows closed
but at night
in your small bedroom
with the green and brown leaves
rustling the wallpaper
you leave the window open
to the wind
and even in your sleep
hear the sea slap and suck
and the pebbles running back
to where they were made

but the edge of the world
is crumbling
and houses with both closed and open windows
fall into the sea
with shops and churches
which according to legend
still sound their bells in storms

and in those smug houses
which are safe from erosion
the sea
even with its windows open
and the wind at its back
whispers so far away
it is lost in the conversation of dreams

until now
with so little time left
almost any empty house will do
near or far from the sea
even if you have to change the wallpaper.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 10, 2011


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