Harbour (Remove filter)
Girl On A Narrowboat
I was walking by the canal with Duke
The stone towpath reeks of history
We passed a multi-coloured narrowboat
A homely vessel redolent of mystery
On board was a girl swabbing the deck
I must confess I liked the cut of her jib
She invited me down the gangway
The cabin seemed no bigger than a crib
She loves my dog and I love her
I've never known such a feeling
...Tuesday 21st April 2020 12:37 pm
Winter Beach
Remember
The sea assaults
Of winter gales when
Towering spray sheets curl
Over the green-stripe tower
At the harbour mouth
And waves roll shoreward
Beside its jetty
Shingle crashing
Floating spume across the beach
With black stones cold shone by spray
That above the wave thrust
Hides the horizon behind its mist
As the sun shines low
On a December afternoon
...Wednesday 4th December 2019 2:40 pm
Images of a High Tide
harbour entrance swell
river bridge
above the beach
the scraping rattle
millions of stones
sucked off the beach
returning to the sea
beside the harbour wall
crossing waves
rearing waves
joining
breaking in foam
crashing
onto the shingle
the vast pull
of the receding sea
the undertow of sound
the bay
grey brown sea
under a blue sky
...Monday 25th February 2019 1:55 pm
Conversation in a Harbour Cafe
It was all in her eyes
When he said
I
He saw the tear
When he breathed
L
O
V
E
He knew her mind
When he stopped
Outside the mist rolled in
As ropes slipped off bollards
When he left
He heard her say
M
Y
When the door slammed
He hoped she said
L
O
V
E
When he heard
It was all in his mind
Outside the engine sta...
Sunday 9th December 2018 12:35 pm
The Artist [1]
In so few splashed acrylic lines
see Cornish fishing boats
take shape against the quay
the red hull and the yellow
See Cornish fishing boats
mirrored in the harbour sea
the red hull and the yellow
with the deep sky sunk below
Mirrored in the harbour sea
the jumble of masts and cranes
with the deep sky sunk below
and the distant sea above
The jumbl...
Friday 11th May 2018 12:10 pm
Adamson Adrift
This piece, over twenty years old, came to me largely in a dream about being a poet.
Adamson Adrift
We sat on the wharf at East Balmain,
where the ferries make the Harbour
never still,
and Robert Adamson floated away
with grace on the violent tide,
as we looked on the streams
of the living
(as in air, we were in motion)
and in action, and relative calm
...Sunday 29th October 2017 2:21 pm
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