Friday, February 13, 2009
November Moors Comments
Rating: ★0.0
Dour, frowning skies hang looming low across the sheep-less moor
All set for sleep beneath November’s grim, hypnotic gaze
A sombre shroud of grey bedizens weary telegraph poles
Upon the cheerless tops. like aching masts of age-ancient sloops
...
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7/28/2025 7:06:49 AM # 1.0.0
Lovely! I found the alliteration a little belaboured in places, but it didn't spoil my absolute delight in your poem. I am glad that the moors are sheepless, only because the sheep are in the valleys, and not dead. I was glad to meet them in the valley before the poem ended, being very much an animal lover.