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Poetry
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| Moat Lane Manor | |
| By philkent | ||||||||||||||||||||
| 15 June 2007 | ||||||||||||||||||||
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In my little part of hell which is the south east London suburbs there is a little oasis hidden away. The ruins of a moated fortified manor house going back to the time of the Norman conquest set amongst meadows and fields. Its like a time slip from the middle ages tucked away amidst all the 21st C dross. Hard to believe it needed to be fortified with all the peace and quiet there now. Remember I'm new to poetry, am clueless about rules of punctuation, grammar, verse etc so feedback and tips greatly appreciated. A suburban gateway to middle age dreams rose ragged and replete from moated depths With meadows spread and grey stone buffed of the harsh lives lived down to echoed recall No souls now within save stout willow arms and nettled regiments lick thirsty green tongues No horde at the walls but the old plodding horse frogs by the duckweed and the lizards basking So enjoy your peace Moat Lane Manor float quiet in dotage on green silken waters
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