As a seagull again

7 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

As a seagull I flew inland from the sea
Up in a yellow-tinged sky
Looking down with the freedom I commanded in flight
as I swooped and I soared up on high

I watched as the river meandered below
Through the town I am proud to call home
with its cluster of houses gathered close to the sea
over routes I have so often flown

This river again

6 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

In this river’s silted tributaries
Navigation now
Reserved for smallish river craft
Low of beam and bow
And yet, two hundred years ago
Galleons here were made
Crafted beams at Bramber
Where many keels were laid
Such changing times of commerce
The Adur’s here provided
For this fishing port of Shoreham
Which by the sea has long resided

Shoreham Airport again

5 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

Shoreham Airport’s terminal building
The oldest in the land
Is getting a new makeover
To make it fresh and grand

It’s 1930’s facade fell into
a terrible state
With peeling paint and cracks in walls
But soon it will look great

Walking contented again

4 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

These cobbled lanes, a thousand years
Where countless souls have trod
This hallowed ground where now I walk
On sparkling dew-clad sod

This sleepy town, its flinted walls
Where fisherfolk resided
And the comfort that the parish church
Reliably provided

St Mary de Haura again

3 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

The river Adur’s changing course
To its tidal estuary
Bereft now of its shipping past
As it meets the changing sea

The oyster beds lie barren now
Their commerce lost to time
But St Mary’s bells in beacon tower
Still regularly chime

Glowing again

2 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

Ethereal glow hangs over Shoreham
Through the mist, ‘neath yellow skies
With the promise of September warmth
The sleeping town in silence lies

‘Neath the bridge the river water
Meanders slowly to the sea
Boats lopsided in the shallows
Oyster Catchers in their lee

Shoreham by the sea again

1 of 7 in the Jemverse series ‘Shoreham again’

I have a beach of shingle mixed
With golden sea-washed sand
Its grandeur and its mystery
Forged by God’s own hand
I have a river winding through
The valley from the sea
Its tidal water carrying
Swans and seabirds oft to me

My window to the world

Sitting here in quiet
by my window to the world
I’m high enough too watch
things down below unfurled

It’s peaceful here, cathartic
so with pen my words they flow
and occasionally I’ll take a look
outside my world window

The comfort of home

Swift to the morning
but with comfort of home
the night has slip-slid away
and all of a sudden
(and too soon it seems)
I’m here at the start of the day

My Chair

There’s a place in my house where I sit
and, if I chose to lose myself I can
Be it with reading or writing
or music or game
Sometimes Obi joins me
as it is for him safe haven
when there is something loud downstairs
My little brown comfort blanket
snuggled up and sleeping
in my chair beside me

Raining in August

This year we decided
not to travel to sun
but enjoy it at home for a change
But perhaps that decision
now with some derision
with hindsight, we should rearrange

In the garden with Chris

Sunday in the garden
with jazz and sun and beer
And family, conversation
pavlova and good cheer
Laughter on the Springtime air
from here this afternoon
We’ve been out since breakfast
and evening’s coming soon
But Chris Barber and his clarinet
still has a voice to hear
so we’ll all stay a little while
and have another beer

The Trip

The early start
the silent hour
the wind outside a-moan
The ticking clock
the coffee hot
the time to leave from home

Particularly Sunday

Don’t have a problem
with most days
They fly by when I’m busy
though sometimes
when there isn’t time
I might get in a tizzy

Last day of the hols

And here I have just one more day
to spend and use in my own way
I’ll lie in for a little then
write some words with my new pen
over coffee with some toast
and Marmite maybe (make the most)

Our new Alexa, music plays
on this the last of holidays
A playlist of my favourite songs
to which I’ll dance and sing along
Then maybe I will play a game
Red Dead Redemption 2, the same

Of seagulls and home

Although it is still dark outside
Above, the seagulls’ high
Tells me that the day is here
with that familiar cry

I’ve heard that sound ‘most of my days
E’er since I was a lad
It speaks to me of oceans
and by it I am glad

Home (haiku)

Home, where my heart is
Comfort at the end of day
in my safe haven

Tri-Sussex

n May there is green
as we walk on these hills
and breathe in the air
as a cure for all ills

In August there’s ochre
as the harvest grows ripe
and these hills bring a smile
from the grumble and gripe

Seascape

If I do nothing else today
the one thing I will do
Is sit down on the beach a while
and watch the lovely view
For I will never tire of this
The sea, the sky, the sun
Particularly when like now
My working day is done

With words

At the bottom of the garden
in the sunshine with a beer
I have my little poems book
So why not? Whilst I’m here

Sitting by the Sea

I’ve sat by the sea in Croatia
I’ve set by the sea in Spain
I’ve sat by the sea in Turkey and Greece
but it’s never quite been the same

I’ve sat by the sea in Gibraltar
I’ve sat by the sea in France
I’ve sat by the sea in Montenegro and Crete
but it’s always like taking a chance

Every Ocean

3 of 3

Sailed every ocean
over several years
They’ve given me joy
and also some tears
Yet great as they are
I will always defer
to the sea here in Sussex
the one I prefer

Many Oceans

2 of 3

Sailed many oceans
but the one I love most
is the strip of the channel
off the Sussex coast
For its here that my heart
just knows it’s at home
with the sea on the doorstep
all my life I have known

Several Oceans

1 of 3

Sailed several oceans
then came home for a rest
as the ocean of home
is always the best
For it’s here that my heart
with the sea that I know
will always stay true
wherever I go

Triolet : 2018-09-06

where do I hang my thoughts?
when love has lost its home
tables now jaded, speak no more
where do I hang my thoughts?

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windows now strangers
no candles to warm the time
where do I hang my thoughts?
when love has lost its home

image: flikr.com

Butterfly Cinquain: 2018-08-24

Syllable pattern : 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2

lizard
shows me the way
to look up and look back
home is a home, albeit bent

move not

OLD COMPANIONS

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Have A Couple
Of Old Companions
That I Can Always
Count On
To Stand By Me
No Matter What

A PLACE TO CALL HOME

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I Wished Upon A Star
So Long Ago
When I Was A Child

It Was A Wish
My Heart Made