The Rhyme Prompt for Day 11 of GloPoWriMo reads: ‘we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of origin. Where are you from? Not just geographically, but emotionally, physically, spiritually?’
This makes me think of Knysna Heads where I had my first idyllic younger years before moving to the hated inland. Even Durban doesn’t quite cut the mustard by comparison. Like our previous Durban seaside home, though, The Heads of my youth doesn’t exist any longer.
Oh, the place for me
Is right near the sea,
As close as is possible for me to be
Where the storm-tides rage
As the waves engage
In constant melodic cacophony,
With the cliffs and the rocks
In reverberating shocks
And each surge will rattle the pebbles free.
Yes, my place of song,
Where I still belong
And for which my feelings always run strong,
Where each wavelet laps
With the gentlest of taps,
After gurgling over the current strong
As the tide will recede;
Then such peace it will breed
Like a tinkle to follow a big brass gong.