We are celebrating three years in business with a creative prompt event on both Twitter and Instagram and hope that artists and writers will help and be inspired by a trio of poems written by the three authors currently in our stable.
Across the three generations of Rudd family writers; the sea has been a great source of inspiration, hence the theme of the poems.
We will be releasing one every two weeks to allow time for people to get their juices flowing and if you do miss out on them as they are pinned on our twitter page, they will also be available to view on the website.
Please like and share and get involved.
The favourites will be displayed on our website to accompany the individual author's pages when the site is revamped early in the new year.
Please hashtag #SealabrateXadrum so we can see your creations.
To the Sea
Oh! Sobbing sea
Why mourn so sadly on the beach?
Are these high cliffs
So far beyond your reach
That they defy your bounding waves
Scorning to stoop and be your slaves?
Oh! Sobbing sea
What countless mysteries you hide
Down in your depths
Held by the rolling tide
Defying all the works of man
When he attempts those things to scan.
Oh! Sobbing sea
I would that I could read the deep
Walk thro' those realms
Where countless calmly sleep.
Tell me, what wonders therein lie
You answer not - only sigh.
Look at the fury of the sea
Watch its waves crashing free.
White spray churning playfully,
Look at the churning of the sea.
Watch the tempest raging forth
Racing eastwards, westwards or north.
See the green crashing waves
Surging waters making mens graves.
See the rocky jagged coastline
Where the tides rage endlessly in time.
Hear the single rush acrss the beach
Soothing the pebbles, soft as a peach.
I'm just going sit here,
I'm just gonna wait,
Not for very long my dear,
Just a pause, a delay
Before these waters clear
Carry me on my way.
I'll tarry, under calm veneer
Masking a heart of clay.
And there it is,
An end to all this feeling,
By single drop drawn down
Far from surface ceiling.
Until sea-bed bound,
Of lost love dreaming,
In this sodden sanctuary I find
Escape from your scheming.
Yet reflections of shame
Greet this seated arse,
As the moment passes I
Choke on my portion of the blame.
I pray this salve of liquid glass
Will my guilt claim,
And beyond this horizon vast,
Life will be not the same.
1st reply from insta by Simon Michael Morgan
I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest that I loved the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.