We sat and stared at the sea
its distant calm expanse
as blue as the sky.
Closer, the kaleidoscope of grey patterns
hid its secret creatures,
as the seaweed danced
to natures rhythm.
Boats slid across the surface,
or, captured by a buoy,
swayed sadly in the wake.
Gulls gossiped and watched
as the crab man came
and unloaded his catch,
startled red within their cages.
Then the ferry loomed,
its bulk altering perspectives
as it steered imperiously to port.
In dreams I fly across the sky
on a white wingéd beast
who’s unshod hooves
leave the air
the hills roll
and rivers curve
through lush valleys
then slope into towns
where tiny people spend their days
I rise above them
swooping on currents
touching the clouds
There are no boundaries
I am free
*For Corinne and James who completed the Bath Two Tunnels half-marathon last Saturday watched by a very proud mum and dad xx
I found a bench from which to watch
Sat licking ice cream til they came
The first lap they looked surprisingly
fresh, even the big ones,
those ones you wouldn’t take for runners
You could hear their breath though
So many it took half an hour for them all to pass
My ice cream gone I could clap and cheer now
awed by their fortitude
the digging in as they return for the second lap
Their faces contorted
grasping at the air with clenched teeth
Hair stuck to sweaty necks
Some resort to walking
The birds have flown
so all I can hear are the gasps
as they run back out to the distant marker
I wander back to the finish line
Its a nice day for a stroll
Sit on the grass in the sun
‘til the first ones find their final push
speed up when they see the sign
grin as they go over
Exhausted, I need a drink.
The diggers have come and destroyed the daffodils on the green,
creating a vast hole in my childhood.
The rocket ships that looked like swings,
the slide to the bottom of the big blue sea,
the café and the benches where mums sipped their tea,
That tiny park of recreation, a slice of nature nestling
between the buildings.
Football on Saturdays, cricket on Sundays,
and marigolds on a dismal day.
The place of get togethers and breaking hearts,
Replaced with those tick tack wall to wall houses.
Their mean gardens room enough only for a
trampoline and barbeque.
Maybe the laughter from the past will reverberate
through the lives of the families living there.
Those that have stolen my space.
Hands clasped tight in my lap
I watch the child crying in the corner
while the mother tuts and coos
and the old man coughs
that old man cough of
clogged lungs and
The incongruous laughter
leaching from the back room
is an insult
as a scruffy teenager sniffs
on the too close chair beside me
I study the ebbing of life
in the clock face
I can smell disease
feel it spreading
seeping in through my skin
I dare not fidget
for fear of contamination
People leave clutching their
I hope for one too
A pain easer
A mood lifter
but when they call my name
onto those clasping hands
Without a word
nought can be said
Without it’s dreams
all life is dead
Without a goal
it can’t be found
Without a tune
there is no sound
Without a smile
no friends to make
Without a god
nothing to hate
The waterfall cries extraneous tears
which catch on the wasteful wind
then drop, and pool in puddles on the ground,
where people walk, regardless.