True Grit

Totem fit for a Temple,

Stone Steadfast. Set

with a snarl that could cleave Oak.

Teeth a crenellated fortress.

Yet so fluid.

Rippling features.

The nose? A whale’s tail,

Slamming down between Octopus and swirling

ocean current.

Bathed in Sunset stained horizon’s light,

As if atop a Viking prow.

Or Inca guardian?

Perhaps all of these.

Teased out in grains

and clouds of chiselled thoughts.

High above ashes and dust,

by a voyager

with bold, strong hands

now of the earth.

 

© Tom Tide 2017

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s