Saturday 9 January 2016

Hard Landing


To us, as to him, it has to happen somewhere,

So the proud sea-bird rested his yellow beak

On the lapping shore of a tourist beach,

Legs stretched out by the sand castles

And the garish reclining chairs.


Oceans he knew, high waves foaming

On the storm lashed Atlantic,

Brought low from the nobility of natural flight

To the amusement of sand-throwing children,

Broken and discarded like a beach umbrella.


  1. Who discarded the children? What was the dickie-bird so proud of?

    1. Always a pleasure to have you as a reader!

    2. I must admit that I liked
      "Oceans he knew, high waves foaming
      On the storm lashed Atlantic,"

      Sounds like ... who? Homer?

    3. I've just realised that the bird was "proud" in the sense of sticking up from the sand. Sorry.

    4. Actually, I must admit I rather liked the whole thing, but I don't want to encourage you too much in case you start devoting your time to trying to wangle grants from the Arts Council.

    5. Better James getting the grants than most of the others! Reminds me of "those dolphin torn, those gong tormented seas."

  2. ""Oceans he knew, high waves foaming
    On the storm lashed Atlantic"

    It is also reminiscent of bits and bobs of Dark Ages poetry you see translated from time to time. Though they wouldn't have used "Atlantic".

  3. Come to think of it, Homer was "Dark Ages" too, just a different Dark Age.