Gambler’s Synonymous

If this isn’t heaven

Then where might it be

If this is the measure

Then how far out to sea

If the sun on my back

Helps the tall grasses grow

If theirs is the future

Then what might I know

If the roar of the engine

Breaks no calm at all

If light turns to shadow

Then how do the dice roll

Urban Urbane

Direct in line

And all around

For three hundred and sixty degrees

Red bricks and white double-glazed windows

Grey slates and silver wood-burner chimneys

Green trees by greener hedges and bushes

Above

A cotton canopy concertinas

As the wind forcefully replaces the breeze

Ever so silent, silent now

I wait for the grey clouds

Watch the peace slowly pass by

Holding On, Letting Go

These are the greens

Also the mauves and yellows

Of autumn on the cusp of summer

This is the relief

Of the red flamed dimensions

With the passions of spring

Those are the supports

Fixings for the canopy

Which blows through to winter

They are the ropes

And hooks and leverages

That are here for the season

The Easy Way Is Up

This is the day

One week

Of birthday celebrations

Later

Circling

The inner and outer

For the hotel

With the same name

This is the reflection

Of city

And seaside town

Each to their own

But first to say

Esplanade Gardens

And England’s first

Funicular railway

Those Victorians

Sure had

A sense of style

Which we celebrate on this day

Creating Past Creations

Saturday morning

Health spa

Then golf club for breakfast

No sea view

Or walkers on the promenade

Instead cars, cars of every kind

A cup of top quality coffee

Good, strong, and black

With an authentic Rombouts biscuit

Next time I might ask

For two shots of espresso

Just to push the boat out so to speak

What with booze cruise boats

Being one topic of conversation

With the southern chap, back in the spa