Whitby Jet Poem by Sally Evans
Whitby Jet
Black stone soft to carve
beads, ornament, brooches.
Stone, fine and intricate,
to wear, to revel in,
and slowly break.
Below gull torn skies
in the fishing town,
by Staithes, under quayside sails,
the sharp glitter, a dark rainbow
in booths.
Night flowering, a perennial glow
of east coast darkness, the poet-monk
Caedmon's fire.
I honestly didn't understand this poem, but i must say its rich in vocabulary
This poem is nornally set centre. I dont set centre very often, but this being centred makes you think of a jet bead or carving
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 9:18:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Brian, it is about the soft shiny black mineral found near Whitby on the east coast of England. which is made into jewellery etc