Jun. 19, 2022


He goes to a place to be there,

to be really there, away from here.

The metal seat is hard on his bottom

but no matter there he is.

Below him is a small beach,

that regularly accumulates piles

of seaweed wafted in on the gentle waves

of an otherwise calm sea, the Med.

The sky is clear blue with a bright hot sun.

Gulls sail the air currents in hope of food,

pigeons bob along the sand intent on raiding

the picnics of the holiday crowds.

Beyond this bay, rests an isthmus,

dotted with high end living,

couched in woodland and rich greenery.

His body settles in - eye flicker slows -

breathing expands lungs - head rotates.

Today’s daily view overprints the previous,

the power of the image increases, setting

off a trickle of quiet down his body,

irritation slews from his fingertips,

his world fades, tunes into the rhythm

of the tide which laps the shore,

sinking and smoothing the sand.

Latest comments

25.11 | 22:15

Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.

07.11 | 11:14

Hi Peter,

A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there



06.11 | 16:24

A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.

06.11 | 15:59

Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.

In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.

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