I watched the sea, it did me proud
I smiled at it and laughed out loud
The waves they roared, I roared right back
As I wasn’t having any of that
Alone on the stone with sun and spray
On a fine and perfect Springtime day
On the shoreline with the crashing sounds
That filled the air and shook the ground
I shouted loud, could not be heard
Save by a high fly seagull bird
Green and blue the waters came
Crashed and turned and crashed again
Alone I stood and marvelled still
At those impressive seascape hills
Today it is the sixtieth
that we have seen so far
in twenty twenty-three
now March is here on par
Equal that is to Springtime
in meteorological term
the first day that it happens
you will be pleased to learn
For we are done with winter
warmth is now what we all need
to brush away the cobwebs
and bring new life with speed
Yes I know it's a bit shorter
but the slip-sliding away
this year is quite amazing
as it's February's last day
Now March is nigh upon us
and the winter's almost done
so I suspect in thirty more
we'll know the spring has come
So though another month
has left us now this year
I'm not that disappointed
as the warmer days are near
Don't get the wrong impression
my colleagues, reading this
as I'm not one for fudgel
as for me my work is bliss
But on occasion there are times
especially of late
when a fudgel is more common
in attempts to graciate
As with retirement looming
ever closer now these days
I find myself succumbing to
a new relaxing phase
[In the ‘Colloquy’ series, I’m exploring some of the English language’s more obscure words. Some little used, some no longer used but all recondite. ‘Fudgel’ is a verb and is defined as the act of giving the impression you’re working when you’re not.]
The antepenultimate (10 of 12) in the ‘About Brighton’ series
Sat in St Nicholas’ churchyard
high up on the hill
overlooking Brighton
with all around me still
Sipped a bold, strong coffee
the sunshine breaking through
with history around me
which from my past I knew
There’s change around about of course
new buildings stark and cold
yet Brighton’s essence here remains
quintessentially old
A haven with a tranquil peace
God’s hand is present here
A little bit of heaven
with the bustling city near
The viaduct on London Raod
Brighton, late at night
lit up blue with vibrancy
is a lovely sight
High above the city streets
with Victorian pride
to carry trains up there on which
so many people ride
But down here close to midnight
just a passing car
and me with phone to capture
this spectacular
In Brighton there’s a cafe
in a garden with a view
Overlooking the Pavilion
(to some, the palace new)
It’s famous for its rock buns
(though today we did decline)
as we are on a diet
with an eye on our waistline
But it was still relaxing
and quite special in the sun
Sitting drinking coffee
and watching everyone
It was raining in Brighton
and, strolling back to the car
parked there in Ann Street
from the centre, not far
We paused to admire
on the wall, ‘cross the way
some graffiti scrawled quickly
but with something to say
And in contemplative mood
we pondered the depth
penned by those words
whilst at our feet, quite perplexed
A young seagull ran by
so as not to intrude
For to spoil this fine moment
would have bordered on rude
Was there metaphor here?
Bob would have been proud
‘No woman, no cry’
is still shouting loud
Against the blue the old Town Hall
with yellow ochre walls
Declares aloud his history
from ageing hallowed halls
In Brighton now amidst the new
it stands aloof to change
Whilst all around the architects
make plans to rearrange
And yet its walls have stood the test
that time has often posed
So here it is with confidence
and will stay put, I suppose
A pleasing thought to keep in mind
as history remains
With old and new together
and memories retained
...all about me and my life in words. I write most days, carrying an ideas book around in which I capture a word snapshot of life around me. So there's a lot here about Sussex and the sea and anything else I see that inspires.
The pictures are mine too. Some taken to match a poem; some poems written to match a pic; others chosen because they work well with words written.
Jemverse is life in words. Hope you enjoy the reading as much as I enjoy the writing...
Jemverse 