Inland Vacation

In Cartmel Square

The workers they congregated

Talk of the maidens bare

And the squire's suspension of shame

In the monastery temple

At Manjushri Kadampa centre

Shoes taken off at the door

Hands sanitised and face masks worn

A formal meditation

At fourteen-thirty

With flowers, offerings

Among images of the Buddha

The skylight is only a skylight

There are no stairs to climb

Nor any viewing platforms

To look out to the bay

Prudhoe Castle

Should we or should we not

Pay the entrance fee

Including a donation to the trust

But we have bought

A bicycle pump

And there are safe places

Hereabouts

 

Day Trippers

Ferns and moss

Fallen down trees

Footprints in the bogs

Sands and salt marshes

Bushes by the doyen’s dozen

An artisan baker’s shop and café

A quiet place

A busy place

A place once so full of tourists

On platform one

Waiting for the train

To Silverdale

Two stops down the line

Alongside the estuary

From Grange-over-sands

To the RSPB’s sanctuary

At Leighton Moss, with the ducks

And a coronation chicken sandwich

Paint is peeling

From the glass window

Staring out into the station’s waiting area

 

Steady Does It

Matilda climbed on the rockery

But was told

No, no, no Matilda

Absolutely not

But who gave her the name

In the first place

Sat, on the promenade

At Grange-Over-Sands

On the last Saturday in August

In this, the year of the pandemic

Opposite the telescope

Which looks out over Morecambe Bay

Children race each other

On their push-along scooters

The girl says that she is the winner

Are all girls, and boys, competitive

Kate has gone to the café

For coffees and vanilla ice creams

The proprietor says that they do all kinds

Including cappuccino, yes, he did say that

Patches of blue sky, ever so slightly

As Pink Floyd might have said:

Obscured by Clouds

Maybe they had played here

Back in the day, in August

 

Reclaimed From Rhyme

Clouds, in quite a hurry

To cross the once blue, blue sky

Thoughts of how I have disrupted

Oh so so many lives

Would that I could be seized

With no need to go anywhere at all

Would that I should be rooted

To a place so so calm as this

That we might all travel less

For less is more, is more, is more

No need then for second stops

Or even to worry as to the final result

What once was grand

Was, for sure, for sure let go

Decayed to the loosest straw

Solutions offered by the high and brazen

Rhododendrons were the latest thing

And for tall trees seeking light

A grandstand then was often built

Or a platform, for revellers simply to be

Dilapidation comes to mind

A certain requirement for a lick of paint

The past is past, but, we did all play our part

Except for the mother, who really was a martyr

  

  

Incontrovertible

It matters not

What you leave behind

Nor if your partner looks sideways

While you look forwards

No amount of wealth it seems

Can make a man, or his possessions, immortal

For he, and they, will surely

Be impoverished by the passages of time

All day long

I ought to carry this thought with me

Nothing should become too too precious

That it may not be written of by me

Currently closed

The chapel and the restaurant

Also the fishing pegs by the lakes

Otherwise, open for admission (tickets only)

The quiet stone

Stands beside the old wooden door

Where the threshold is much underused

The latest change is 1995

Smell the grass, freshly mown

See the heather, and the Acer

Take in the splendour

And think of how life might have been