By the Seaside

Wincing dull dawn
If grey's your thing
Does the sky reflect
the sea or sea
the sky?
This performance
Doesn't make it clear

The North-Easterly
Plays its part well
Gets in the head
With a sinuous chill
Reminiscent of
Atonal violins
That bring tears

A bit-part freighter
bound for Hartlepool
Sustains a rhythmic arcing
Of symmetric bow-waves
Silently pleasing
Musical sensibilities
As it ploughs the line
Where that grey
Meets this grey

Today the briny's
Salt-sharp scent
Fills the lungs
An air that lifts
The audience
Of herring gulls
The string section
Of promenade lights

Empty seats
Are all I see
From this end
Of the pier
What attractions
Did I envisage
Exciting enough
To drag you here?

It's what passes
For entertainment
At this time of year
Out on this pile
Of rusting iron
Planks of decking
Spitting up spume
On our shoes
From breakers below

Not everyone's flask
Of lip-scalding tea
But with a constant changing cast
And subtle improvisations
Oh! I do like to be beside
You here
I think it's worth the fare
We'll have to pretend
The mocking chorus
Of immature gulls
Don't disagree


n.b. NaPoWriMo 2023. Day 24 prompt: poetic review of the rarely reviewed.

Picture shows two people swimming in The North Sea a substantial period before the laughingly labelled, British Summer Time kicked in.

CLP 24/04/2023

On the Road VII

Lockdown to gridlock

Mad weekend rush to seaside.

Gridlock to Lockdown?


CLP 01/08/2020

On The Breeze


Gentle draught carries

Scent and echoes from afar

Sea air and childhood


CLP 14/11/2018