echo fals

A selection of poetry that celebrates the beauty of the Cornish landscape, by three Falmouth University writers. 

[echofals]

Falmouth High-street

Professional sneak

Swoops, just at the buds delight

Next time I'll bite back.

- photo by Sarah Hamilton and haiku by Amy Barrett

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When in Bodmin 

As bleak as the moors might well be you may find this your cup of tea: It’s home to Brown Willy Kernows highest Hilly

On Sacred grounds, of outstanding beauty

- poetry and photo by Amy Barrett

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The Lost Gardens Of Heligan

Surroundings of scatty Lily pads, spotted           lazing

In the blazing buzz of the a.m sun.

Beauty beyond belief is getting lost In your leaves

                 Never is a blurb of any need.

Bypassing the big old rhubarb

to get to the roots of your jungle heart; those gangly unkept hidden parts.

poetry and photo by Amy Barrett

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Bobbing Antics 📍Falmouth Harbour

Duck-like up close Beak like dirty glass Evidence ripples:            a peeking cormorant has been.

Perching proud on a buoy doing just as it please

Perhaps attention seeking bobs Or plain simple preparation For deep sea survival diving

Wouldn't we all surface too, If to leak where we weep!

- Poetry and photo by Amy Barrett

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Gylly Beach

On Gyllyngvase we sit 

All is well until you get sandy bits

A salty sarnie, Exfoliations

In each and every blinking crevice.

- Poetry and photo by Amy Barrett

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Crantock, Goose Rock

          There once lay a goose in the sea             no wings or beak, oh deary me!                 Who's in fact just a rock                  (The star of Crantock)              So jagged and wonky is she.

- Limerick and photo by Amy Barrett

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Pendennis, Coffee Box

One tango breast and

A tufty brown blowing top,

brownie crumb pincher.

             though 

A cute exterior

Tame and trusting demeanour -

All for a             thoughtful

rose tinted scavenge.

- Poetry and photo by Amy Barrett

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Crantock

Cooling dunes, chaotically fringed with

              marram grass

silver-edged in the light of a

              laughing moon

bathed in muted glow by

              lullaby stars.

        We are free,

              wild with our

                        celestial comrades

       and the low music of a

              depthless sea, caught in the timeless realm

 between dusk and dawn.

If it all ends by morning, let our love

imprint this darkened space above our bodies

to remain ageless, forever

dancing with the sea’s softest

hues.  

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Boscastle 

From the inlet stalks a predacious mist, threatening white-washed cottages with its unwavering cast

Storming through the village with a raging ocean that swells and sighs

Reclaiming cragged rocks at the headland and all life beyond, a witch hunt

In the darkest shade of late-night horror as the goblet moon disappears

Behind obscure cloud and plunges into a voracious sea of black.

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Lizard Point

The miles go by

And we made it, to the point

To the end of the road.

Oh, to be a gull and soar these endless cantaloupe skies

Careless colour, flying

Towards an expiring sun, above

Glistening ocean

Disappearing into the horizon with

Summer’s dying flame  

To return at dawn with

a sun reborn.

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Pendennis Castle

I sit beneath a virgin sky

Its hues a drowsy shade of lavender;

A reflection of the pearl grey ocean lulling about shingle.

Wavelet crests glisten with golden glimmer

Eagerly awaiting the sun, pure and warm

In its embrace.

The morning’s parting cloud, soft in ephemeral play,

Is content with life’s impermanence,

And yet I hand my mind and soul over

To the lapping waterline

As a requiem

For its eternal serenity.                                                

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Charlestown

 Down the busy road and over the barrier

We go

To where we watch the fishermen boast their

Daily catch

And meandering minstrel soar in a salt thick haze for

A steal.

The sea wall, clad in its cape of moss and mussel, braces

The beating

Of waves and white-caps, duck and dive the sky

Is busy

Melting seamlessly with the horizon, an expanse of

Distant blue

Dotted with bobbing boats and clouds in the shades of

Pure tranquillity.  

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Jamaica Inn

His eyes dark like the black steeped clouds that roll ominously above the moor

Illuminated faintly by the light of a weary waning crescent in deep winter.

 The eyes stalk you, from the cobbled courtyard to the stairs, and into your room where

He is watching by failing flickers of candlelight

A shadowed smuggler immortalised within Cornish stone and pulsing pages

Waiting.

 In the lone hours of twilight you feel his presence and the smell of brandy lingers

Like the ghostly brush of fingers against your cheek.

Will you sleep?

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Lost Gardens of Heligan

Wander whimsical walkways

To a garden of exuberance, caught between bramble and thorn

Lost to the weariness of time.

Of stone giants peeking, and mud-maidens sleeping

Careless at the feet of great oaks, overgrown with wild vines,

Sinking within carpets of moss and swimming in divine pools of heritage

Undisturbed by the slow passing of season

And unassuming in their magnificence.

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Minack

Meynek, breathing rock jutting into a sea of

Golden opportunity, sun of gilded prosperity

And rich tale told through stone and soil,

Organic love, poetry

One man to be picked out of ten thousand

A theatre nurtured by words of passion

History and literature

Embraced at the edge of the world

Under the embers

of a crashing midsummer sun.

- poetry and picture by Jess Hamilton

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Crantock

we love the old village of Crantock, us, 

located near the church of St Carantocus,

with a magnificent beach,

do visit, we beseech, 

if we’re wrong, feel free to dismantle us.

— poetry and picture by Sophie Deakin

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Pendennis Castle

remember King Henry the Eighth?

whose marriages caused many debates,

well, his Falmouth castle, 

caused invaders much hassle, 

sent them all running back to their base.

— poetry and picture by Sophie Deakin