Dependent on a Crashing Wave of Fire

The mist perturbs the shim’ring
of the slowly dying sun and
throws its embers over all
that turns to face it.

A circle – searing – sent through
time t’ward bluewhite atmosphere,
masking o’er its ancestors and
spilling in from space –
bonded ‘cross the emptiness eternal.

A spring begets a stream becomes
a river raising tides to wash
away the nurtured land it inundated.

Life raised upon a rock in an
inevitable ocean,
dependent on a crashing wave of fire.

My name is William Altoft. I’m a writer in and from (and consistently on) Bristol, in the UK.



If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.