So, I really ought to learn to update this thing. It’s there, in my head, and so are some sentences, but getting them down is another matter.
According to my moleskine I wrote this on 24/10. I remember doing it, and I’m not sure if saying where it was written will spoil or add to the context but hey. I’ve context for it anyway. It’s the first full poem I wrote since my degree. So that only took five months to get back into it. 😦 I do hope that my degree wasn’t a waste of time and it’s just the new life pressures and sudden release from deadlines which has killed my desire to put pen to paper. (Try telling that to Thursa, but then the situation is very different.)
Written on the South East coast, in freezing cold wind, on my own on a bench.
October. It is cold
but the waves still sound the same.
Sporting sunglasses and winter coats
We, the local legions, march along the wall.
I am an interloper, an autumn tourist,
but to remain unseen I keep to the uniform.
Today it is bright.
The sun sparkles on the smooth sea,
a panel of light moving and rippling on the water like broken glass.
Rocks shudder under the waves’ power – scuttling and clattering over the land.
Last July we came here,
lay about all day in a kind of sunny limbo.
I still have the train tickets in my pocket at home,
and the memory of pretending we weren’t anywhere at all.
Then the still-chilled water cooled
our scorched and sunburnt skin.
Bodies huddled, perched on the sea wall like birds on a branch
– for comfort rather than for warmth.
I will come here twice a month,
For a mini beach holiday,
kisses under moonlight,
And always the sea will sound