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Margaret Ann Waddicor November 14th 2010.
Inspired by Terje Gröstad's wood cut of the stones
by the sea: "Rullestein." (Stones transported by glacial
erosion, most often round, hence rolled stones!)

Like a sleeping snake
the sea its wake a foam
so quietly souphs on beach and stone,
to suck them give them sheen
to shine again from out the memories
of time's still stance for them.

Great mounds lie there on southern strands
the tombs of heroes past,
when Vikings tough did deeds enough
t'inspire the Saga's in their fires
like beacons by the coast.

Iron Age relics now reduced to lumps
that wake our senses to their history
here where trade and trade winds
changed and sailed the oceans
far and wide using the fickle tide to draw
and flow on waters green and indigo.

Here now the birds arrive and go
to southern climes as did the men
of ancient times explore
horizons new and far away from home
bold sailors braving storms
and fierce dark foes along with daemons
from the depths of their despairs

when seized by fates great wash
of ill luck claimed their souls
which buried them where no one sees
and no one knows their place
in brine to lay.

But not this mighty man,
Øystein Halvdansson
A Vestfold King I'm told
who's celebrated even to this day,
makes archeology for all to see and ponder
What history we make with these,
a pile of stones.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Scandinavia's first UNESCO site. Gea Norvegica Geopark. A world class Ice Age monument, you can find at leas t 100 kind of rock on this wild beach.  


You always like the story don't you,
your poems are full of interesting stories,
not so mine so often,
but as it was a picture that inspired me
it had a story.

That coast is fascinating in many ways,
there are the pinkish rocks of Ula,
further along the coast eastwards,
they are shaped with "devils cauldrons" and channels,
all of the same sandstone-like granite rock,
eroded buy the winds and sea,
almost like that of sculptures;
thrift, and other tiny plants,
growing in the cracks or joins,
making in all a wonderful picture too.
The waves crashing against them
then caressing their forms as they recede,
are fascinating to watch too.
Yes the south coast of Norway has its own character,
whereas in the west
there are the long fjords going far into the mountains.

On the south too there are sudden patches of purple
made by those miniature wild pansies, so lovely to see.

I send you my love from the sounding box of the shapes of the rocks, Rosina,
you have sandstone that is similarly eroded,
just see the red tombstones south of the Clyde,
among other places, how wonderful they are in Scotland.
Ann XXOO with a thank you.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

If I understand what you are saying here, I thank you from my heart. Your smile is well received Ian.

I thank you too for your appreciation, it was only here I had any gauge of what my writing would give or be received as, and it has been a truly wonderful journey into the minds of others, their comments divulging, along with their poetry, their characters, needs and wishes.

All very educative and interesting for me, a complete outsider to the art of poetry until three years ago. It has given me, whatever it s! The insight into myself too, writing poetry brings out the inner thoughts and feelings and is suddenly there in front of one, all is revealed.

Mølen is a fascinating place, as all such prehistoric places, and the people who choose the sites knew places of aesthetic beauty, always they are situated in places with the word idyllic coming to mind on seeing them. Of course they have changed since their day, but still they retain the atmosphere so particular that ancient places exude.

Thank you again Ian, with my love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

Glad it gave you pleasure and interest Shirl,
the prehistoric and early times truly fascinate me
and there is always an atmosphere which the people
of the past leave to haunt those special places
that have become silent books of history.

If one could put illustrations here I could
have included the wood cut that inspired
this poem.

Love to you I haven't even seen what the day is like
since I came on here!!! Love Anna

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
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