Winter Blue

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Hanging on or just scraping by,

Keeping my head above water

I'll never learn to fly

In this monochrome world

Of winter trees stripped

To skeletons against the snow-laden

Sky moving in slow motion

And always catching the eye.

On the beach, hunched up,

We face the freezing wind

This wind that crosses the north sea

From Siberia or the Arctic

To exculpate our many sins

And strip our visceral hold-on

Each others' frozen hands

As we stagger along the beach

Searching for a place to be

Buffeted, battered, no-man mattered,

Tasting the sea salt in the spray

And wishing it was any other day

◄ Lancaster

Tomorrow belongs to me ►


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Paul Sayer

Sat 15th Dec 2018 05:52

What a wonderful expressive poem John.

I had to look up 'exculpate'... never heard that word before.

Says it all.

I live about 30mins from Kings Lynn and love the coast around North Norfolk. I will be spending Boxing day doing exactly what your descriptive poem captures so well.


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Jon Stainsby

Sat 15th Dec 2018 05:23


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John Marks

Fri 14th Dec 2018 22:52

Much appreciated Taylor. It was a reminiscence concerning a walk on a beach near Kings Lynn in north Norfolk on New Year's Day. It was the middle of the AIDS crisis in the 80s. We'd driven there from London. It felt that way. John

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Taylor Crowshaw

Fri 14th Dec 2018 22:29

Reminds me of the evenings spent as a teenager wandering along the beach with my friends. Cold dark evenings battered by the wind and salt spray..I miss the sea as I live rurally now. Excellent poem, thank you..

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