The grey days of Portland Bill

It's recalled now, to my mind
the grey days on Portland Bill
The angry churn of waves
The inevitability of emptiness

The gulls crying hunger as they watch
Swooping from the gulf of cloud
Down to the swarming cafe
lit by lighting I detest

Where murmurs of contentment
Weathered by the cold
Are spun whilst musing over gift-shop trinkets
and sipping milky tea

Yet out there, in the gloom
With the sea salt air
And whiplash wind
That's where I'll stand

I marched through here on days
when the sun happily beamed
and revelers, like lively fish
Leapt into pools

I journied around the Isle
Passing ruined churches
High-walled Prisons
Precarious cliff edges
and Thunderstorms out to sea

But now I recall, to my mind
With an odd longing
Derived, maybe, from my sombre melancholy
the grey days of Portland Bill



Poetry by ttius
Read 811 times
Written on 2015-02-02 at 17:07

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I guess, if you scratch the surface of any veneer the reality is clothed in some facade. Like this a lot.
2015-02-08


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
ah ha! i think i see (but i'm not placing bets).

the difference being: on/of.
2015-02-03


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
You place yourself outside of the revelry,
in the gloom. I think that is where I would stand.

I love this. I looked up Portland Bill,
and I think I see the two sides of this poem,
the tourist attraction, and the somber
reality of living in, or exploring, such a place

and why the grey might come to haunt.
2015-02-02


shells
I so enjoyed this, I can understand it and love the sea.
2015-02-02