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The Living of Penarth
Like benches
they are lined up
on the windy side of the pier.
Capped by the sun's grey hair.
Guardrails support the bay,
the tweed rocks
and the brown shoes of the mud.
Swash and back-
wash, they snore,
skimming their stones
and waiting to see
just how far they will go.
**
I saw the pebble girl
clicking across the tide's dryness,
alone and bald as the night.
I remember the skulls on the shore
and, somewhere beyond me,
the presumption of a dying sea.
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I saw the pebble girl
clicking across the tide's dryness,
alone and bald as the night.
sounds something like has been already written...oh yeah I remember the same idea was instilled in the poem The mongoloid Girl Plays with Sheels... |
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| aw man. nice write. rare to find such sound craftsmanship. sturdy images. love "tides dryness" and "bald as the night." great last sentiment. haunting. beautiful. |
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Comment by: Chuff - 2006-10-17 13:28
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| In many cases, the endings of poems ruin what was once great. "The Living of Penarth" is far from the norm. And I'm proud to say I've read and enjoyed your work. Well and beautifull done. |
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Comment by: AJSmith - 2006-07-10 08:54
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| My favourite of all your poems. Is that saying much? :) I like the back-wash line break, though 'snore?' I see the sea as snoring here which is maybe what you were hoping for. If so, it works well. Skulls on the shore too, very good. I would be tempted to call this Skulls on the Shore as this represents many british seaside beaches which are dead in the winter. Just an idea. Though it would de-personalise it slightly, but maybe positively. |
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| Wow, Andy. Makes Porthcawl seems like a Utopia. What's with the balaclava? I used to have bad acne once ... Hannah x |
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