Beach farewell

We walked a while in silence on a beach set hard,

The ocean sleeping gently ‘neath the sky’s cloud smile,

Darkening the horizon, in an evening quite unstarred
And moonless.   We walked unspeaking many a mile.

Though there was much to talk about we left it all unsaid;

The wheeling of the knots at dusk,  the curlew’s cry -

We let the evening talk for us, attending it instead.

And as the evening talked on it spoke our last goodbye.

And now the years have mostly passed but I remember still
The years we walked together on the sandy beach of life.
The sea was often gentle, though it sometimes crashed until
We'd had enough of trouble, and we'd had enough of strife.


I wonder if remembrance is a gift of God,
Or maybe it's old Satan's way of building up our guilt,
Searching out our conscience and giving it a prod:
Stilettoing bad memories, to reach right to the hilt.


But I would rather dwell on all the happy times and good,
The smiling and the holding, the gently pleasing word.
For life's too short to dig up dirt to drown us in its mud.
The beach of life speaks out to us and everything is heard!

My city

I used to recognize this place.
I knew its size, its colour, face;
I knew the way the traffic blew:
The buses, cars and cycles too.

It was a place that lay, quite flat,
So cyclists in abundance went
Their to's and fro's, forwards and back,
In factories and docks descent

In teaming hundreds; sometimes more
Would cycle to their factory floor.
Blue collars in abundance then;
Now there are fewer working men.

On Hessle Road wives once would wait
Their men's return, their trawlers' fate;
But those for whom fish filled their dreams,
Are cast adrift in planners' schemes.

They ripped the heart from docks, and more,
They tore up many a factory floor.
Now concrete towers and malls abound,
Groceries traded out of town -
In supermarkets!

The working docks are now filled in
Providing parks and pretty places.
One's a marina full of boats,
The leisure of the one who gloats

At what his soft-earned riches bought;
While for the many work is sought
In vain and mean, demeaning dole.
This was my town; they took its soul!

What is love

"Love is the greatest thing," the poet said;
But I looked back at him and shook my head.
"Love?" I questioned.   "What is love?" I asked.
He looked at me.   His look seemed quite perplexed.

"Why, love," he answered, "Is the heart of man,
Seeking what he most desires where'er he can;
And caring for this thing beyond himself,
Regardless of its state, its poverty or health."

"Such love is what can make a life complete,
Fulfilment of the very heart of man.
Without it there is nothing.   I repeat, 
Love is enough.  It ends as it began."

I doubted and remained still unconvinced;
His argument had no effect on me.
"It seems," I answered, "That you are entranced
And blinded to the things you will not see."

"For love," I said, "is selfish in its aims,
Seeking only what it can possess;
And making too its own egotist claims
On what it says it loves.   This is distress!"

"Not so," the artist then claimed in reply.
The sage added his own answer as well.
"Love only tries to tell us of the why,
The how and what; love really can be hell."

And he expanded on this thought awhile:
"There's hurt in love, rejection, bitter pain,
That can be borne with gentleness and smile,
Knowing at the last it will bring gain."


"The love that dies upon the cross is such;
It carries in itself another's wound.
I warrant that this love will gain so much
As in the world has never yet been found."

I left and spent my time in deepest thought,
Pondering their replies, amazed at what they said;
For I had learned of love which souls had bought
Restoring man to God where Love had bled.


And gazing at an image of the crucified,
I wept for love of the Divine here nailed.
I knew it was for me that He had died,
To pay my debts and gain what God entailed.


This is the only Love.   All others fade and die.
I wish to love like this, to give my life as well.
To share this Love with all I meet, is my reply,
Sharing with them the road away from hell.