DUNES
Jean Harvey
Winner of the Chanctonbury Cup, 2011
Indolent, the yellow sandhills drift,
each atom caught in endless ebb and flow,
the fierce Sirocco chivvies roughly, sifts
grit-heavy clouds that twirl a one-trick show.
Graceful curves, long-limbed, dunes undulate,
big-hipped, they rise and fall - seduce the eye,
their gentle lines deceive and captivate,
stretch stark against the vacant, staring sky.
But restless, even while soft slopes recline -
lie scorching in a shimmer of content -
their contours shift and trickling sand runs fine,
wipes out the trail - each foot's unwanted dent.
Two-faced, wild desert dreams blow hot and cold,
as fickle as a love turned quick to hate -
that sudden chill when sun lets go its hold
and moonlight freezes every sleeping shape.
Harsh beauty, without pity, lures and lends
its strange attraction, fascinates, invites -
the wanderer, unwary, who intends
to try to cross her rollercoaster heights
that ripple, perfect - golden skin unpocked
and virginal behind the heat's thin haze,
his strength near sapped, his squinting gaze now locked
on far horizons where a mirage plays
and leads him on to perish in the sand -
another sacrifice to satisfy
the spirit of this cruel but magic land
where fools are led - to lose themselves and die.
JOURNEY IN OLD CASTILE
Finola Holiday,
Commended in Slipstream Poetry Competition, 2011
The journey is waiting for you
the horses are saddled, Cabellero,
