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, he tunes into the rhythm
of the tide which laps the shore,
sinking and smoothing the sand.
Peter Clarke
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
Hugs,
John.x
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.
Echoes of the Old on the New Battlefields
Warrior chiefs of the GAA were early on the field to prepare:
Posts and cones positioned to mark territories
Very young novices came later by parents’ chariots
clad and shod for the ensuing battles
Firstly, paced for speed, resilience and flexibility,
then marked off into opposing teams
Each warrior chief led a young squad of hopefuls
in further exercises to bring them to fit levels
There followed a huddle, an exhortation rant,
responded with clamour of intent and enthusiasm
Skirmishes began, speed across the field, hunt for the ball,
to be delivered as the goal, or to be prevented at all costs
Warrior chiefs egged on, instructed, altered the field of play
the young ’uns complied with fighting spirit
For every fall and hurt spells were cast on the side line
till fitness returned and they were entered back into play
Scores mounted, roars enhanced, casualties grew,
novices flagged and regrouped across the fields
Between bouts came the talks of encouragement
Stay back, pass, pass, pass, keep the pace.
Old hands passing skill onto new palms with dedication,
a gift of generous wisdom gladly given
Peter Clarke
20th April 2024