Tuesday, May 09, 2006

something about the seaside...

Here's a poem. I'm pleased with it, so I'm showing it off.

the landings

happy the door dog, his livid cock,
his spumey muzzle a gruff salute
to herring milt, cherry syrup,
salt dust pebbles for him to lick

go around, chime ceramic
restored victorian carousel,
-------wave while
-------the sea tilts
-------you baptismally
-------under,
-------listen up
for the almost imperceptible
ritardando and dismount

the ice cream alarm
is ringing and ringing

“Bathers out!”
calls the umpire,
bright his yellow
ball of office,
bright his klaxon,
cap and flag

up we come like a doomed regiment
shin deep fret of turquoise glass,
divining as the board thrums:

kiss me, kiss me,
we made it again

Comments:
Fine perspective shifts, likenings and salty tastings.

Reminds me of something I've just mentioned. Yesterday, in Smith Sqaure, I saw the place anew for an extended moment and all came crystal clear into focus. That also happens when reading and listening to music. And it happened then, on reading your poem. It was as if I were walking along the seafront arches, towards the Palace Pier from the fishmongers.
 
And there I was, supposing you would never post again because of that suspended Catling review, but instead you were out there, living. Meanwhile I must have left myself logged in because one of my cheeky young colleagues arranged a reminder which popped up yesterday morning at 08:50 - "Cock Tasting 09:00". It made me keep laughing to myself all day. These are strong words, this poem makes me think you live life more sharply than I do.
 
That's just lovely. Nice one. Mentions of Doomed Regiments always get props round my manor.
 
lovely language old chap!
 
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