Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges
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Forlorn now this iron leads to nowhere save to a shortsighted whim synonymous to abandoned towns where Beeching's blunder echos still Yet testament still here they lie as memory fades with brittle truth reminder tracking to long lost connections and a politician's gain
Found an old map in Emmaus worn and dusty and old thought to myself 'I'm having that' went out of the shop with it sold Familiar but different there are things long gone away a past the history books have claimed from our quaint yesterday
It's the morning after the mourning the official period done and though not forgetting Majesty she's now radiant in the sun Her long reign now is over and with Phillip and the rest she's Queen now where in heaven everything is just the best
Four spans across the Adur at its mouth at Shoreham town on the road on into Lancing at the foot of Sussex Down Four spans of steel construction admired for sixty years 'til Norfolk Bridge mark II's demise 'midst many local tears
Saturdays in the seventies and me in middle teens caught the bus oft into Brighton forty-nine from Southwick Green then went up to the Clock Tower through the door and up the stairs to listen to the music long on cushions sprawled up there Virgin Records, ah those halcyon days for some a misspent youth but the music that I heard has brought a lifetime hence of truth
Parallel to Oxen Avenue the ancient trackway lay from Mill Lane to Upper Shoreham as a pedestrian way Elm trees at its southern end stood by the kissing gate which though the trackway is still there has long since met its fate
When the Norfolk Bridge first opened the High Constable had the key for the old toll bridge in deference in eighteen thirty-three The Duke of Norfolk he was present for a procession up the street 'neath both surmounting arches and the horse and lion's seat Designed by W Tierney Clarke it was the first of three to bear the name of 'Norfolk Bridge' in Shoreham by the sea.
Now long gone from the harbour demolished years ago the Old Crab Inn as once it was is nestled there below alongside the old shingle beach beneath the tunnelled hill at the bottom end of Gardener Road for halcyon days to fill
As a boy I used to play there inside the burnt out walls for hide n seek and other games within its hallowed halls once we ventured to the basement down dark and dusty stair oblivious to danger with innocence to dare But now all these years later it is a block of flats though with outer walls remaining preserved and still intact
I found it on the high tide line after a night of fire the Grand Old Lady of the sea destroyed by spite and ire Yet carried on an ebbing tide along the coast to me a memory of those boards I trod now rescued from the sea So though her grandeur is no more complete her fall from grace Brighton's West Pier always will in history have her place
The beach Ted Bunker launched his boat from sadly is no more once called 'The Gut' its gutted now no more a shingle shore Filled in to make a car park the beach where once we played is another loss to history and to the fishing trade
Just east of the church on the foreshore bungalows once on the beach presented a vista of Shoreham history has put out of reach Popularised by early movies actors built many homes there salvaging old railway carriages the carriage works then had to spare Mary Loftus, a music hall favourite Florrie Ford, Ernie Mayne, Marie Lloyd all of the lovelies who flocked to the beach making it hard to avoid
'Malduppinne' as it was first called in thirteen forty-seven by grant from John le Pottere to his wife in his succession Its purpose now long lost to time a museum now it hosts in the oldest secular building that the town of Shoreham boasts From 'Malduppinne' to 'Marlipins' this build of Caen stone with flint-knapped chequered walls remains the oldest one still known
Up at the top of Buckingham Road the elms, mature, still stand a reminder of the distant past when the manor house stood grand part of a bygone Shoreham a remnant of 'The Lanes' with triangle of trees and shrubs is all that now remains
When in flight over Shoreham a hundred years ago two bridges you would see 'cross the river down below The Norfolk and the railway but no footbridge crossing yet for the town and all its people had that pleasure still to get
Now where people park their cars on tarmac for some shopping once stood an open field where you'd oft see sheep a-hopping A shepherd's hut stood to the south close to its southern border fenced in with wooden latticework to keep the sheep in order On Tarmount Lane in Shoreham town the shepherd's field you'd see for many years with grazing for the sheep that wandered free
Beside old Railway Gardens the old flint wall has stood built two hundred years ago but still it's looking good And if its stones could talk and tell the history of the years of Shoreham since the railway came of all those toils and tears What a merry tale that would be for us who live in this town beside the sea and what we wouldn't give For history books are great to have but the interesting essence can only come from something that has stood from past to present So sadly we will never know for these old walls are still and silent from the years they've seen as they forever will
In Regency Square
where once stood the Pier
Victorian splendour
still evident here
but time has moved on
and the 360 high
is now the feature
high up in the sky
Yet standing here now
the future I hold
is recalling the heyday
('cos yes, I'm that old)
when the West Pier still stood
as a visual feast
besting the new one
a mile to the east
On the South Downs high, top the hill we walked around the Jack and Jill two windmills there and standing still though long time now since flour to mill The view gave all the eyes to fill where we took stock of our free will November yet not really chill we wandered freely with no ill
As a boy I used to play here inside the burnt out walls playing hide n seek and other games within its hallowed halls Once we ventured to the basement down dark and dusty stair oblivious to danger with innocence to dare But now all these years later it is a block of flats although the outside walls remain preserved and still intact
You'd never think from how it looks that many years ago the boards of this forgotten pier I walked down oft and slow Derelict for forty years and then destroyed by fire the skeletal remains now stand as its last funeral pyre Brighton's West Pier still it's called but you'll need imagination to picture once how grand it was from this last iteration
blue boats, barnacles brown
bumpy beetles, boolean blots
baked bold, blended bravery
boats brown, barnacles blue
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