Poetry Blogs (seaside)

I like to sit beside the sea
And close my eyes just enough,
That I can say I'm here alone
I pretend I'm the last human,

All my troubles drift away,
It into the waves endless repeat
Its slow certainty comforts me,
My senses leave on the tide,

The freedom I seek
Comes from living
On a small island

Where I must keep every thought
Every action packed in the land,
They get stepped on...

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And so I walked the full extent of the tide,

To where once-fronds of bladder wrack lie,

Fallen branches where air balloons find their specific gravity awry,

A rippling sandscape sculpt by rolling water,

Carpeted with greening algal strands plumose in the quiescent remaining pools,

Seagulls at the edge,

Scouring newly exposed beach,

Beneath the dark-faced island.

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California by day,

Las Vegas by night,

with flat caps, deckchairs,

and other English sensibilities,

once dying, maybe still,

while trams rattle declaring

sealife promises,

to stargate pleasures,

to Cher and her 'life after love',

entwined with the pulse of a rollercoaster.

Sounds of Saturday football matches,

played hard on soft sand,

menace resting seagull...

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A seagull cries above

I look up to see it soaring

its stark outline against the blue sky

seems out of place above terraced streets

singing songs of the sea

it takes me home,

to where...

I'm on the strand line

eyes half closed against the glare

cast by the sun's rays on the incoming surf

echoes of the shifting shore reverberate through me

I am the waves, I am the se...

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the sea is rattling bones today

and the wind holds my ears to ransom

for want of a scarf and a hat

she is walking on the promenade

and wants no part of the play

so I am talking to the man on the pier

with the rods and ask

“what’s your game?“

whiting

and if he’s lucky

bass

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