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Monday, 23 July 2018

Parch Marks

It is an unseasonable summer.
The sun strokes dry crumbling soil,
You can hear the grass grow
and wither out of the chapped earth.
Contiguous virgin clay, tilled loam
and built ground swelter restlessly,
bulbously heat-stretched and swollen.

Buried archaeological infections
pustulate to the surface,
A pockmark map of levelled
civilisations, Iron Age forts holed up
beside World-War bunkers.
Parched monuments tattooed
under farm skin and playing fields,
Waiting to soak up the erasure of rain
and slither back to anonymity.

© Aoife Troxel

Brutal Heat in The UK Is Revealing Hidden Footprints of Historic Civilisations

Aoife Troxel has been writing poetry since the age of six. Luckily, she's improved since then. Before becoming a legal adult she was already two-time winner of the Poets Meet Painters Competition youth section. She has also read her poetry in Sežana, Slovenia as Cuisle Young Poet of the Year.

4 comments:

  1. This is such a vivid and tangible description of the summer.

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  2. Such a fine use of vivid language,.,.brilliant work, Aoife. ������

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  3. Really cool poem....considering the heat😉 Particulary like-you can hear the grass grow and love the last line about the rain
    I find the news article really interesting an exciting time for archaeologists

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  4. Wonderful deacriptive language. Maire xx

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