Portuguese Cove, Nova Scotia
Dockside is like the Sheriff
capturing smells from herring-bait
and lobster boats
disgorging wood-slatted traps,
where jam-packed claws
clamber for space,
harbours’ movements
a bedlam of activity.
Nearby open water flushes
whitecaps riding a windy tattoo
cabin as a flimsy
moustache on hill’s rocky
lip. A fisherman
dreams of nets repaired and buoys
newly tarred. His snoring
continues
within a yard’s clutter
of lobster pots.
© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/
first published June 2008
The Ranfurly Review Issue 3
Scotland ISSN: 1755-5957
Comments
littleditty | December 21, 2008 - 23:47
i liked this so much, because it does so remind of there, and many a seaside place -liked the sounds and echo rhymes in this poem that conjures images - lovely, cheers Richard
Richard L. Prov... | December 22, 2008 - 16:39
Thank you very much for your lovely comments. It is encouraging to hear when someone enjoys one's writing. Yes, writing is fun, eh? RLP