Goff James, Without Words 73, 2018
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Goff James, Without Words 71, 2018
Exp 1/1000, f/22, ISO 3200, FL 18.00mm
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Goff James, Ramsey Sound, 2018
Ramsey Sound
As twilight’s
Storm filled sea
Sweeps across raging
‘Twixt ancient windswept cliffs
O’er the the Bitches’
Boiling cauldron
With its foaming Whelps and
Graveyard of the Gem
The swollen torrent runs
From hidden hideaways and
Secret sandy beaches and
Rugged ragged rocks
The bray of restive seals
Rises disharmoniously
Above the salted surf
The unruly congregation
Clinging to the reefs
Assemble below
The rocky heights
Awaiting the surging swell
To free them from the
Their fortress to
Feast upon the shoals of
Unsuspecting mackerel
Swimming ‘neath
The turning tide
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Goff James, As I Stand, 2018
As I Stand
As I stand in total solitude
Upon Dewsland’s graveyard cliffs
Hidden
From the howling wind
Beneath
Winter’s weathered crags
Sheltered
By the cloistered gorse
From the stone faced storm
I see
The silent mourning moon
Drift
Across the grieving bay
In the rippled moonlight
View
The sparkling stars
Mirrored
On the crested waves
Cast
Skywards In plumes
Of swirling spray
As snow filled clouds
Descend
I watch
Tormented snowflakes
Writhe and seethe
Above the boiling sea
Dance
In unison with
The storm tossed spume
That falls as one
Smothering
The corpses of
Ancient rocks below
In shroud of deathly white
Bathed
By the ocean’s chilling hand
In tears of ice
They rest entombed
Below the lofty precipice
Their epitaphs scribed
In the frozen sand
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Goff James, Storm at Porthclais, 2017
Storm at Porthclais
Upon
Porthclais’ aching
Windswept battered cliffs
Where howling whining winds
Sweep unchecked across the salted slopes
And in the clouded darkness
Broken bracken fearless grips the naked rock
Where timid rabbits hide
In burrows deep beneath the pounded earth
And wind tossed screeching seabirds
Safety seek in their cliff top castled lairs
The flow of bending ribboned grasses
Patterned by the roaring raging storm
Twine their way unknowing in rivers
Across the edge of land
And plummet to the sea
Such savage ocean mountain waves
That breathless rise snow-maned
From Neptune’s hidden caverns and
Crash and fall relentless
Against the ramparts of the harbour wall
Smothering it in strident stinging spume
Where
Tormented boats
Anchored to their flailing mooring ropes
Swing and sway from side to side
Trying to escape the clutches of the storm
With bows out-turned across the bay
To face the raging waves
Like strings of fragile pearls
They ride the onslaught of the boiling sea
That unceasing flows and floods
The shattered shelter of the cove
Where lie strewn
The broken corpses of sunken craft
And in the thunderous darkening light
The survivors precariously cling and
Wait the onslaught to abate
With the hope of calm upon the turning of the tide
And the awakening of the
Dawn
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Image photographer unstated
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G.James, In Memoriam, 2017
In Memoriam
Freedom’s hist’ry writ
’Pon Passchendaele’s shell scarred plain.
War’s darkest horrors lit.
Five hundred thousand slain.
Amidst the battles shrieking maelstrom
Drowned in blood stained mud the fusiliers fell.
Death’s scorched breath innocence consumed
That summer’s morn in hell.
‘Neath terror’s limbless charcoaled trees
Heard the injured’s dying bays.
’Twixt the burning stench and acrid breeze
Soldiers’ war torn twisted corpses lay.
On Snowdon’s shadowed pastured slopes,
Morn veiled, rising ’hoppers chirred.
Echoing, black draped silence, bedecked in hope.
A skylark’s piped lament was heard.
A mother’s tears Yr Ysgwrn filled
Cascading through Trawsfynydd deep.
A father’s heart broken, stilled.
Tormented grief pained steep.
At Birkenhead Hedd Wyn rose. The Hero’s pennant flown.
Battle field, recalled, where blood was mixed with rain.
Vacant stood the victor’s bardic throne.
The gentle poet-shepherd slain.
