Beachcombing – a poem

This poem from my book is here to remind me, that sometimes words just tend to flow, which has not been the case recently.

                      Beach Combing

                    Where a solitary seagull flew

hopeful of an unexpected catch

an old man moved along

the deserted seashore.

Glancing skywards

as if to ward off new invaders.

 He kept his gaze low,

pausing then pouncing,

hands sifting piles of slippery pebbles,

“Makes a good walk” he called,

digging to retrieve his bounty –

two battered 20p coins.

“Like poetry?”

he called, I nodded

so with one hand cupped

to the side of his mouth,

warding off competition

from roar of the wind

on the incoming tide

he launched into a sonnet.

I clapped respectfully

as he continued to work the beach

as a showman might,

reaping his due rewards for such

a powerful performance.

This entry was posted in Brighton - out and about, Cheer yourself up, Poetry - Creative Writing, The Open Art Cafe - Rottingdean - Ann's Cafe Poet Workshops and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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