martyn

 martyn

between the spring tides

when the lifeguards arrived 

and the autumn tides

when the lifeguards departed

he was dead

low tide we said

low tide

in time perhaps

 in time perhaps

looking up to my father 

every day i say to myself 

my dad was this age once

looking down on myself

at his age

in time perhaps

but not now

for i am lost in this music 

timeless at this moment in time

dad whistling good morning

at my age

in tune perhaps

in this green cwm

in this green cwm 

layers of time laid along a day’s walk

holograms ~ if you will ~ contoured and

burnishing every facet of the past

as tenuousness as time itself

they merge to produce a feeling of 

being in and out phase with these halted stations 

as brevity is noted along the longevity of thought

here we are adding our footsteps

a wisp of cool conversation mingled with

the voices of the past  even if conjured up

for who will walk this way in future years

ask that  and imagine the past asking that 

as they personify our elation when

with our hands upon these memorial stones

we commune with the humanity 

of times immemorial

as our learned guide 

nods our bemusement to rest 

quietly here in the shade

beneath these monumental trees

sand dunes

 sand dunes

bracken heady 

as we step steadily

along the rabbit paths

the wind pernickety 

in the russet cornices

of this marram-grass sea

blue-beard cut-throats

grasp no cutlas

mind how you go

a parentheses of striped snails

punctuates our attentive gaze 

for the flash of a lizard

on this wind-swept maze

who piled this sand here 

on gower’s tip with

the weariness of slither 

on sundown’s burning ship

up dune  down dune

tired legs in layers on

this mirage of sahara 

with its top-most gainsayers 

next one next one but one 

runs the dune’s egg timer

but at last we are there

and each in our own way

mouths Crème de la Mer

blue pool bay

 blue pool bay

a rough bay that some days is filled with fraught

on another day a calm bay when we aught

to look to see

if blue pool itself is under the sea

or is high and dry 

to both we cry

oh no  the wait

or yes yes  we can go in straight

up where it sits as proud as a throne

where king trepidation sits all alone

then looks then leaps 

between the dark sea-weeded wall

teeth’s breath sneers we did it all

up here the easy walk is pathed around

down there it’s a mountaineer’s task

can we ~ did we ~ no need to ask

blue pool rocks  we’re on solid ground 

oh my pristine sandy bay

you have always been this way

under unscalable cliffs 

bombing gulls with screaming riffs

or out across to the point with the hole

where the stranded starfish are on parole

look there it is 

yes burry holmes 

the next stop on our epic roam 

burry holms

 burry holms

laid for lunch or a timely snack

when the tide is low and sea is slack 

look  this side far worm’s head stands

north side  the banks of the loughor sands

gone now the tidal gully’s rip

that at high tide lets the atlantic slip

into the moat around this island jointed

faulted between here and the headlands pointed

feel it! ~ can you feel it?

the romance of feet that were here before

irresistibly springing to the fore 

say your prayer ~ ask permission

to continue this our walking mission

back cross the beach long and flat

to cross the sand dunes higher than high

back where our walking’s front door mat

sighs and sighs  oh ditto that

falling for it again

 falling for it again

then them naughty boys
threw burdock burrs into
your hair and scissors called
i can get them out
nowt said your mum
come here my girl
let 
that 
be 
a 
lesson
boys will be burrs
if you let them