Cape Cornwall

The quieter man

Moves away

From the quiet place

To the quieter place

At the moment

He has no need of conversation

Which, to be honest

Is not a new thing

I think I told you before

Of his abject refusal

To play his part

In his school’s nativity

I did not understand

But was so so sure

That he was missing out

On something he would later regret

I may well have cajoled and bullied

The boy being at an impressionable age

Such that now he sits alone on the rocks

Posing his questions for the ocean 

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Gwithian Beach

This looks like fun

Teenage surf school

All the young dudes

Showing off and falling off

While eyes are meeting eyes

This looks like fun

Middle aged lessons

With colour coded bibs

And sea drenched hair

While eyes are avoiding eyes

This looks like fun

Turquoise and blue seas

All the way to the lighthouse

Wave after wave after wave

While eyes are distilled by eyes

This looks like fun

Mum breast feeding baby

Where sand and sun

Have fixed the windbreak

While eyes peer into loving eyes

This looks like fun

Wet suits drying on the rack

Surf-guards on their 4 by 4

While eyes are scanning eyes

As the whistle blows

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Sociable Still

In the passage

With the patience

Of the man, on the sands

Without a care in the world

Setting out, no, looking back

The day is the day

Night-time is for wild camping

For now, let us enjoy the surf

Don’t you ever believe

That there is no pain

Attached to separation

The introvert can always turn more fully within

Sat by Godrevy rocks

Now as sixteen years ago

In the swirl-hole of anguish

With nature’s beauty offering repair

Also, and this is the message

Feeling another’s pain

Of previously perceived despair

Is way more difficult

With no clear ending

To grant comprehension

With no clear story

Let alone the back story

Watching two people

Surfing side by side

Once they were together

Now they are apart

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Gust

This is a strong breeze

Almost a wind

Which is exactly what it would be

If we were still up north

There is always a downside

Can you hear the dog barking

Can you see the people

Walking

Living in extremis

Swaying

More than side to side

Positive

In excelsus

To the ebb-flo tide

Hoping with the soft cell

Pacing

More than taken for a ride

Sharing as a way to gel

Embracing

With no reason to decide

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British Rail

It’s the 10:36 to town

A commuter train

Par excellence

Now, if you believe me

(Actually I do have photographic evidence)

We are sat, looking out over beach and sea

The gallery is quiet

Yes, it sure is quiet

In the quiet gallery

Castles of sand

Lead stripes

On the chinos

Outside the council

Community centre

Hepworth, in black and green

Enough energy

Too much energy

Returning to the streets

Is St Ives

Really any different

To Cleethorpes, in June

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