The Harbor Woman

One of things that I love to do is write poetry. This is based on the lady that some people may know who hangs out around the harbor area in Folkestone and seems to be in her own world.

Im fascinated by what her world may look like.


Black skin, blue hair, dark mind.

Who is she? this strange harbor woman. That sits on the dock watching the world go by.

A buzzing, heady land behind the dark shades.

Where does she go to, this harbor woman?

Sometimes I want to climb inside her mind and see what she sees. A wondrous place where time doesn’t exist.

The place where dreams can be dreamt without borders.

I want to know her name, I know her face but not her name. Maybe she will evaporate into space when she goes.

Not buried with the bugs, that crawl at her feet in the cold dark night.

Wrapped in broken dreams and piss stained knickers. A victim of the night, a lady in her own right. She can be anything she wants to be…

A new days starts and she greets the sun. Another day of endless hours of nothing ,

She exists, She is the harbor woman.


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