A howl on Eden karrek

A howl on Eden karrek

I heard a poem and ended up at Godrevy,

my friend and I were cold damp, put out and grumpy,

three days spent trudging in a wet grey mess,

we searched for any old rock where light held heat,


my socks, sodden and miserable, felt dreadful,

slightly disgruntled, I decided to bear it,

spreading my thin green groundsheet on stone.

A chip in my kettle reflected the moon,                  which reflects the sun,

                                                                                         which hadn’t been very generous.


Heat radiated from the rock, our backsides are grateful,

the kettle boils, a brew is poured and we look up.

Food is produced, the bag that held it had fulfilled its purpose,

I’d never been fond of that bag, but now I was,


the stars twinkle above us.

My friend blows her nose then looks my way,

‘Did you know howl is Cornish for light..?’

I didn’t… ‘Karrek,’ I reply,


‘What?’ she asks, I clear my throat,

‘Karrek… I think it’s cornish for rock,’

‘Oh I see,’ she replies.

Well she started it.

About Jamie - VMOdd

Jamie Andrews is a renegade halfwit, writer and ish-artist. Who when allowed out of his cage to be exercised, hangs around the beautiful English town of Croydon. The rest of the time he's sat in a cave, fiddling about with himself and sporadically spewing out creative nonsense on here on his Facebook page and on Twitter.

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