Walking Lines


Walking lines of bottle green and grey

and times where young people play

calling from memory distant lands

and far horizons in our smitten hands

on seeping gunwale and weeping mast

all seeking opportunity never let past.

Open ports rise from the burial tomb

of blackness in our once bright room

and the promise of freedom striven

like manna on wet hearthrug given.

Running fox and hunting hound gambol

beyond the ken of men who’ll gamble

with reality while selling my boot lace

to tie me fast to masts for saving face.


Malek Montag,

Rochester, 2016


Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15

Photo Credit: Malek Montag, 2005


About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on Niume.com.
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