The Flying Dutchman

A newly-posted poem. I can tell you precisely where I put it together – walking from the youth hostel just outside Minehead in Somerset and the nearest pub. Minehead, by the way, is next door to Porlock, famous for the “gentleman from Porlock” who according to Coleridge interrupted his reverie when he was composing “Kubla Khan” and cuased it to be unfinished.

 

THE FLYING DUTCHMAN

 

You have a kind of faith I cannot share,

Thomas my saint, the doubt of a darkening sky my glory

And in the wonder of the half-heard things

I march on a stumbling track not for the faithful.

The Flying Dutchman is my dream

But in the end to reach another harbour

Insinuated by the alien forms

Brought on the currents from the unknown shore

Which even then I felt I knew before.

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3 Comments

  1. you have a strong poetic voice my friend!

    Reply
  2. Isn’t it neat that you can remember where exactly you were when you wrote this poem? I find the same thing with many of my own poems. I enjoyed the poem!

    Reply
    • Maybe I wouldn’t if it hadn’t been the first day of a holiday. I remember where I was for “Sleeping” too, but I think that’s because composing while driving was not ideal!

      Of course while I was working the answer was often “on the train heading home”, which is not so very informative as it was a five-day-a-week thing. Interesting that you remember the location often too. I presume as with these poems it wasn;t a case of the poem obviously relating to the location.

      Reply

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