Kernow. (Completed Poem).

Away too long
But Cornwall now forgives my years of absence,
Welcomes me back to trek her cliffs and moors,
But bars my entrance into high Tintagel.

This country is my true home, yet I`ve seldom lived here,
My name is written on these windswept shores,
But tonight I`ll ride the A Roads back to London,
To dwell once more among bleak concrete towers.

I am a child of the salt frothed sands, the restless waters;
The sluggish Thames is dull and grey to my eyes,
But I am tied to London by cords of sloth and habit,
It seems I live there just because I live there.

I need more space to plant rose trees and apples.
To paint and draw in sunlight; to write my poems.
The city lacks deep vistas, the proximity of legends.
It`s time I moved south west, affirmed my true identity.

This morning I trudge the narrow clifftop paths
Beneath the hulking shadow of Tintagel.
A rockfall has made the castle inaccessible,
And all I can do is stare up at the walls.

And yet, although I cannot cross the bridge
The legends that haunt this place seem to whisper
In the hissing surf and the shrill cries of the seagulls
Swooping low above the foam.

And I hear my name murmured in the cold waves
As they echo through the vaults of Merlin`s cave.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 12th. - 13th. - 16th. - 27th. 2019.
December 12th. - 16th. 2021.

Note. My first name is a Cornish name, and I spent a lot of time in Cornwall when a child and adolescent. I feel more at home there than anywhere else on the planet.