The lost piers.

Poem by John Knowles

From Aberavon …..

To Withernsea

The shore lines

Rusting relics

A pier less nation

Defends itself

Against the tide

A tide of weathering

A tide of indifference

A high of summers

Weathered boards

Tramped by the

Down from the smokers

To take the sea air

To a low of graffiti

And broken windows

And quiet, despair

And we the children

Of seafarers

Now landlocked

Contained by

Container ports

Look at the ghosts

Of Rhyl, Douglas

Lytham, Minehead

Of Shanklin

and Seaview Chain

Of Pegwell Bay

And Rhos-on-Sea

And wish perhaps

We’d cared

Cared a little more

So that we could stand

Proud wooden hearts

Upon the sea

That fed a nation

That bore our wealth

That took us

To new worlds

Too late now for

Hunstanton, Coatham

Or Scarborough pier

And we will never say

I am bound

Bound for Westward Ho!

Also in: Poetry

« my confidence crisis, my humiliation, my loneliness, my confusion
Street drinking response »