The Wall and the Water

Earlier in the week, the first of a series of three poems. At the Edge of Earth and Ocean was the first of the three poems. The Southern Pulse was the second Poem of this series. and this poem is the third and follows below. Each Poem is composed in different styles and each style go very well together and All three Poems deserve to be read together and appears in a single post on Friday at 10 am gmt.

I decided to show all Three seperate at the last moment, So Enjoy all three poems which I call The Cliff Walk Collection. Even though all poems are in different styles, I believe each are composed to the highest standard that I can place together. From the AaBb rhyming style with Alliterqation and Assonance and all the poetic dressing that Could be placed in a poem to Free Verse style of the second poem “The Southern Pulse” to todays Poem a blend of both Previous poetic styles.

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The Wall and the water





The shelter of the stone provides a brief and quiet  grace,
A sanctuary built of old, to hide a weary face.
I walk the path where history sleeps beside the private green,
Safe behind the weathered walls where the world remains unseen.
But then the shelter falls away, the path begins to climb,
And I step out to meet a force as old as salt and time.




The South wind catches me, 
straight from the throat of the Atlantic,
swirling past the tower like a lover’s whispered urgency.
It doesn’t gust; it arrives.
A solid wall of air that smells of distance and desire,
turning the grey day into a theater of invisible fire.



I hear the heavy rhythm where the foam meets the jagged floor,
The boom of liquid thunder as it breaks upon the shore.
You are the deep-down resonance,  the power in the dark,
The wave that leaves upon the rock, its white and jagged mark.
In the wind that comes from nowhere and the water on the stone,
I find a love that claims the cliff and calls me for its own.




Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved 

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Author:

Thank you for joining me on this journey of writing and discovery. Poetry, for me, is a continuous learning process. A way of finding my own voice and writing style and exploring the beauty of words.

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