Death Comes To Fleetwood

Scraped by the sloughing of the Irish sea.
Subtracting at every withdrawal
more of the life,
encasing each grain of sand,
it takes away the land.
Winding wind,
lifting in each updraught,
in tiny increments
a dust,
a black bag.
A fragment of the breath.
Winnowing away across the grey water
sweeping over coastline,
on the dripping beaks of gulls
the tyres of cars
screaming down Amounderness.
On the feet of the people, grey slabs of faces,
encased in sweating buses
running away.
On the rudders and the cod ends of
trawlers chuffing trudging ploughing doggy paddle
out to sea.
On the slimy Plastic rounded corner
of fish boxes.
packed tight in grey ice
life in dead eyes and silver scales.
Life in aspiration,
choking on
and acrylic sweaters the colour of geraniums in the market
and Brighthouse stores
and Ladbrokes
and White Lightning.

◄ Ronan Kitting

Poppy - Columbine - Tortola. ►


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winston plowes

Thu 18th Feb 2010 00:16

Smashing stuff again Rachel... well done. Win

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 16th Feb 2010 17:18

This is very good. I found a little confusion in the centre following the use of the period after '....breath'. I tried to pick up the flow of meaning again, and found it veered into other reflections which is fine, just a bit jammed perhaps. Maybe a break of stanza would assist the separation of natural causes and people causes. The last seven lines are an excellent closure.

<Deleted User> (7164)

Tue 16th Feb 2010 10:24

I can smell the fish and the sea from here. Pity Fleetwood always seems so grey. I like how you picked up on the 'red' sweaters to warm it up a bit. I don't know if that was intentional but i saw red in the geraniums. :-)


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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 16th Feb 2010 09:39

Actually, I escaped a couple of years ago.Where I live now is Chocolate Box pretty but sometimes you need a bit of bleak don't you? I miss it sometimes.
Cheers for the comments,

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Tue 16th Feb 2010 09:12

It sounds like a delightful place to live LOL - I'd love to see what you might write about Wigan - we don't even have the sea air to freshen things up!
As ever, fresh and interesting imagery in here.
Isobel x

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Andy N

Tue 16th Feb 2010 08:18

i am guessing you live in fleetwood??? i remember last time i was there a few years back - didnt' stop raining all the time and i got soaked about six times! lol

really enjoyed the poem however.. i wouldn't say it was nice, but i did enjoy as it is very clear x

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 16th Feb 2010 07:01

Well described bleakness!

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