Tynemouth

Tynemouth

I do this sometimes.
Rapt, thoughtless sit,
As a ship leaves port,
At lea, cove or cliff.

The year the arch fell in

Tour Bus Ladies Ride,
Pictures of Health
Are Petrified.

There's prettiness yet.

To Blyth on Mustard Paths
Long Sands on Velvet Beds,
Through Deep Cuts.
Via Colourcoats or Souter Head.

In the year of the Mosquito

By flooded bandstand,
I stood: In sea lashed Amble
Knowing I would, turn back.

Now: In Primrose
Under a Silver Sky
The Neon's out,
The stairwell still.
To Cleadon Flats.
The night Marsden arch fell in.