"morecambe" poems - Hello Poetry

..and anyway One morning long ago I looked across the Morecambe bay To see the tide roll in. It seemed the sea was on skis that day It came in so quick Perhaps an optical trick Or not.

0

Mar 3, 2013

Mar 3, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

One toffee apple

..and anyway One morning long ago I looked across the Morecambe bay To see the tide roll in. It seemed the sea was on skis that day It came in so quick Perhaps an optical trick Or not.

7

Down the streets that whisper names, through lace curtains people play their parlour games twitching sneaking looks from behind Gothic scripted leather bound books and overstuffed chairs where ***** is taken and sherry drunk and tea biscuits dunked in warm Earl Grey and another day begins in mill house town. Locomotives sweating steel feel their way across the bridge to Morecambe bay where there's a different class of folk used to smoke and steaming coal to steam the fish within the bowl. And the bowl is either empty or it is not never in between, Like the life we live a lot is never seen but talked in murmurs on street corners by former miners agitators free creative thinking men who know to use the pen and not the sword but they're starving all the same all in the name democracy. We see it differently a heresy that's being perpetrated to dislocate and disengage and put poor people in a cage. In the zoo you'll come to see democracy through iron bars Tsars that's what these suited tyrants are well suited to the task in hand to strip the land of all its wealth and let's not forget the National health which is good enough for me and you they'll feed us anything here in the zoo. Bupa now that is super for the supermen and ladies too who come to visit on Saturdays at the zoo. I don't know what to do should I laugh or cry or demonstrate or have I left it all too late? What a God **** awful state we're in It's one for all or ****** all and then we'll fall into the straw strewn ******** across the floor in cage 3b I see but can't decide have I died and gone to hell? well only time will tell.

0

May 14, 2013

May 14, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

I used to live here

Down the streets that whisper names, through lace curtains people play their parlour games twitching sneaking looks from behind Gothic scripted leather bound books and overstuffed chairs where ***** is taken and sherry drunk and tea biscuits dunked in warm Earl Grey and another day begins in mill house town. Locomotives sweating steel feel their way across the bridge to Morecambe bay where there's a different class of folk used to smoke and steaming coal to steam the fish within the bowl. And the bowl is either empty or it is not never in between, Like the life we live a lot is never seen but talked in murmurs on street corners by former miners agitators free creative thinking men who know to use the pen and not the sword but they're starving all the same all in the name democracy. We see it differently a heresy that's being perpetrated to dislocate and disengage and put poor people in a cage. In the zoo you'll come to see democracy through iron bars Tsars that's what these suited tyrants are well suited to the task in hand to strip the land of all its wealth and let's not forget the National health which is good enough for me and you they'll feed us anything here in the zoo. Bupa now that is super for the supermen and ladies too who come to visit on Saturdays at the zoo. I don't know what to do should I laugh or cry or demonstrate or have I left it all too late? What a God **** awful state we're in It's one for all or ****** all and then we'll fall into the straw strewn ******** across the floor in cage 3b I see but can't decide have I died and gone to hell? well only time will tell.

45

My first cigarette was at twelve years old, under the climbing frame, after my turn on the monkey bars. My mate told me not to do it- he tried to take it off me but was too late. I’ve been trying to quit ever since. Soon after, that little climber discovered cider, yearned for something wider and ended up with alcohol poisoning by the end of the year. My first stand-up gig was Lee Mack. I was 13. I sat right at the back on the balcony and revelled in the happy faces below me. Ending with a slow motion impression of Eric Morecambe, I could’ve sworn it was the fastest hour of my life. I can’t believe I was So naïve. When I sat my first exam at sixteen, an hour seemed a minute. Crash forward to A-levels and I was being examined in a therapist’s office- how the tables had turned. Ticking boxes to be assessed and there’s no way I can pass this test because a high score can only mean very bad things. How can life be so virile, yet so lacking and sterile? I was told I’d find myself at uni But I’ve ended up losing myself at twenty.

0

Jun 25, 2024

Jun 25, 2024 at 10:20 AM UTC

C-rachel

Laminar flow

My first cigarette was at twelve years old, under the climbing frame, after my turn on the monkey bars. My mate told me not to do it- he tried to take it off me but was too late. I’ve been trying to quit ever since. Soon after, that little climber discovered cider, yearned for something wider and ended up with alcohol poisoning by the end of the year. My first stand-up gig was Lee Mack. I was 13. I sat right at the back on the balcony and revelled in the happy faces below me. Ending with a slow motion impression of Eric Morecambe, I could’ve sworn it was the fastest hour of my life. I can’t believe I was So naïve. When I sat my first exam at sixteen, an hour seemed a minute. Crash forward to A-levels and I was being examined in a therapist’s office- how the tables had turned. Ticking boxes to be assessed and there’s no way I can pass this test because a high score can only mean very bad things. How can life be so virile, yet so lacking and sterile? I was told I’d find myself at uni But I’ve ended up losing myself at twenty.

33

The day my head exploded was a normal sort of day, I was walking with my sausage dog along the sands of Morecambe bay, when all at once which happened twice, something occurred which wasn't nice. The shifting sands with shifting hands clasped me tightly by the legs,my sausage dog thought it a game but the hands reached out and grabbed him just the same. We both thought that this was the end, me and sausage, mans best friend. Sinking slowly in the sands,the dog and I held by those hands which gripped us ever tighter. it might have been an act of God or it may have been my sausage dog who saved my life, just when all seemed lost and done, my head exploded like a gun and out of it came a length of hope which dog and I fastened to a rope and slowly pulled ourselves quite free from those grasping hands and the greedy sea. Afterwards, after a cup of tea and a bonio,( for the dog you know) we decided not to go that way on a walk again.

0

Nov 1, 2014

Nov 1, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Stories sometime start this way,so they say.

The day my head exploded was a normal sort of day, I was walking with my sausage dog along the sands of Morecambe bay, when all at once which happened twice, something occurred which wasn't nice. The shifting sands with shifting hands clasped me tightly by the legs,my sausage dog thought it a game but the hands reached out and grabbed him just the same. We both thought that this was the end, me and sausage, mans best friend. Sinking slowly in the sands,the dog and I held by those hands which gripped us ever tighter. it might have been an act of God or it may have been my sausage dog who saved my life, just when all seemed lost and done, my head exploded like a gun and out of it came a length of hope which dog and I fastened to a rope and slowly pulled ourselves quite free from those grasping hands and the greedy sea. Afterwards, after a cup of tea and a bonio,( for the dog you know) we decided not to go that way on a walk again.

17

Please don’t move to Blackpool You’ll only waste your time These are things that I’ve found To make you change your mind I spent a year one day in Morecambe A dreary night in Rhyl But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool And I believe that still A bunker out in Baghdad A tent at Calais port But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool The Fylde coasts ugly wart A cruise ship full of Covid A plane about to crash But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool It’s ugly & it’s brash. A cell in Bangkok’s Hilton Chernobyl’s poisoned land But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool This place I cannot stand

0

May 24, 2020

May 24, 2020 at 6:01 AM UTC

anton-snert

Please Don't Move To Blackpool

Please don’t move to Blackpool You’ll only waste your time These are things that I’ve found To make you change your mind I spent a year one day in Morecambe A dreary night in Rhyl But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool And I believe that still A bunker out in Baghdad A tent at Calais port But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool The Fylde coasts ugly wart A cruise ship full of Covid A plane about to crash But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool It’s ugly & it’s brash. A cell in Bangkok’s Hilton Chernobyl’s poisoned land But there’s nowhere worse than Blackpool This place I cannot stand

20

It was a sixpenny slot which wasn't that much, but when that's all you've got it was. twenty shots to *** twenty ducks and you'd get your sixpence back, quack ****** quack never once got it back and I always walked home, that should have taught me something about something, but when you're ten you can't know anything about something or I never thought so.

0

Jan 1, 2020

Jan 1, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Morecambe fairground

It was a sixpenny slot which wasn't that much, but when that's all you've got it was. twenty shots to *** twenty ducks and you'd get your sixpence back, quack ****** quack never once got it back and I always walked home, that should have taught me something about something, but when you're ten you can't know anything about something or I never thought so.

13

Like a maestro on her rostrum she waves her arms, conducting a symphony of clouds and sun, synchronizing showers with sleet and snow. Or a white witch casting her spells on Lakeland fells and Pendle Hill, from Morecambe Bay to Liverpool, where slave ghosts haunt the cotton coast, from Merseyside to Manchester, then chants she changes over Cheshire. She weaves her isotherms and bars through the warp and weft of our map, wreathing those Western Approaches, where siren sea nymphs shimmer.

0

Mar 18, 2016

Mar 18, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC

tony-luxton

Weathercast

Like a maestro on her rostrum she waves her arms, conducting a symphony of clouds and sun, synchronizing showers with sleet and snow. Or a white witch casting her spells on Lakeland fells and Pendle Hill, from Morecambe Bay to Liverpool, where slave ghosts haunt the cotton coast, from Merseyside to Manchester, then chants she changes over Cheshire. She weaves her isotherms and bars through the warp and weft of our map, wreathing those Western Approaches, where siren sea nymphs shimmer.

14

Daniel Morecambe calls to his kidnapper from Venus Hi, I am Daniel Morecambe, and you think you killed me But you killed my body, but not my soul I will always be up here in outer space While you are rotting in your jail cell I hope you stay there, cause I love teasing you You see I am a kid, and your a man I am a kid, and you are a man And when I say man, just a age man You aren't a normal man, but I will be a smart alek kid up here forever You will never **** my soul dude I want to sing this song, to all you would be kidnappers down there on earth I am your victim, death doesn't shut me up I can't have gags on my mouth anymore You can't **** me, and mate, I am a kid, and your a man I'm a kid and your a man, cool kids do what I do yeah You aren't a cool kid, you are a evil kidnapper Well, you are now under my power You see, it's true, I am a kid and your a man You will never catch me again

0

Mar 2, 2015

Mar 2, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC

johnny-georgy-brown

a plea to a kidnapper that he'll never take any future lives

Daniel Morecambe calls to his kidnapper from Venus Hi, I am Daniel Morecambe, and you think you killed me But you killed my body, but not my soul I will always be up here in outer space While you are rotting in your jail cell I hope you stay there, cause I love teasing you You see I am a kid, and your a man I am a kid, and you are a man And when I say man, just a age man You aren't a normal man, but I will be a smart alek kid up here forever You will never **** my soul dude I want to sing this song, to all you would be kidnappers down there on earth I am your victim, death doesn't shut me up I can't have gags on my mouth anymore You can't **** me, and mate, I am a kid, and your a man I'm a kid and your a man, cool kids do what I do yeah You aren't a cool kid, you are a evil kidnapper Well, you are now under my power You see, it's true, I am a kid and your a man You will never catch me again

20

Coffee Rich and dark Slowly spinning in a white cup, Therapeutic aromatherapy Creating a warm feeling Even sophisticated, A smell that sells houses Breakfast Sizzling, crackling into life Taste-buds still blurred From the grogginess of sleep, Bacon and eggs Like Morecambe and Wise An inseparable odd couple Newspaper Folded and re-folded Onto an article of vague interest, Words from another world Unimaginable, war torn, desolate, Colder than the rain-washed street Outside this café window Cigarette The first of the day Smouldering between yellowed Fingers moulded to its shape, Smoke slightly burning eyes That are awakening to Another fragment of life

0

Jul 22, 2019

Jul 22, 2019 at 1:15 PM UTC

nigdaw

Fragments

Coffee Rich and dark Slowly spinning in a white cup, Therapeutic aromatherapy Creating a warm feeling Even sophisticated, A smell that sells houses Breakfast Sizzling, crackling into life Taste-buds still blurred From the grogginess of sleep, Bacon and eggs Like Morecambe and Wise An inseparable odd couple Newspaper Folded and re-folded Onto an article of vague interest, Words from another world Unimaginable, war torn, desolate, Colder than the rain-washed street Outside this café window Cigarette The first of the day Smouldering between yellowed Fingers moulded to its shape, Smoke slightly burning eyes That are awakening to Another fragment of life

28

This link did not work..probably due to my inexperience in moving files..But this is a poem written for my Mother's eightieth Birthday and is well worth a look....Search under Gelderberry on Vimeo and click on Pic...And hello poetry if this is against your rules then I feel sure you will delete this post..and no hard feelings.j.

0

Sep 18, 2011

Sep 18, 2011 at 3:22 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Morecambe bay..and a bit about me.

This link did not work..probably due to my inexperience in moving files..But this is a poem written for my Mother's eightieth Birthday and is well worth a look....Search under Gelderberry on Vimeo and click on Pic...And hello poetry if this is against your rules then I feel sure you will delete this post..and no hard feelings.j.

1

I visited my old man when he was just a coupla’days from death. He looked serene as I walked down the ward… dozing with a satisfied, benign smile - like he was still glad to be alive. He opened one eye when he ‘felt’ me arrive “Now then”... He said… “this Morphine… It’s ****** brilliant stuff. I tell you what - if I’d known how good this’d make me feel I’d ‘ave been a right ****** I can’t get enough! What he’d actually also said… had been… “If my mother’s milk'd made me feel this good I’d never have been weened!” I know… Not the most pleasant turn of phrase. But come on - just an old guy - at the end of his days “So pa..Eighty Five? What do you reckon?… A good run?” "Well, apart from the great depression and 2nd World War…It’s been quite fun". but I’d have been a lot happier if your mam hadn’t gone before. What’s the point without her to balance me out… She’d ride shotgun, map read on trips out, and we had laughs galore We were a double act, Morecambe & Wise, Little & Large - Margaret & Bud! That was us! So now I’m right fed up of being on me own…it’s no good - I don’t like flying solo - alone. Being on my tod in the day, well that ain’t so bad. But come the evening the loneliness - it’s driving me ****** mad.” “And now there’s all this ***** He points at where the tubes go. Like this…What’s it really all about? there’s just - well I don’t know… You should be able to choose when it’s time to end - time to go. Not hang around rudderless without your best friend. I’ll be off in a couple of days then you can get on with things not hanging around - worrying about me… and he was right. Just tweak that dial on the drip stand and… I’ll shove off, circle around and choose a new place to land… Don’t worry - There is such a thing as reincarnation you know... So, see you when I find me feet…hopefully - in the afterglow!"

0

Jun 21, 2020

Jun 21, 2020 at 5:25 AM UTC

chrisslade

My Father's Day!

I visited my old man when he was just a coupla’days from death. He looked serene as I walked down the ward… dozing with a satisfied, benign smile - like he was still glad to be alive. He opened one eye when he ‘felt’ me arrive “Now then”... He said… “this Morphine… It’s ****** brilliant stuff. I tell you what - if I’d known how good this’d make me feel I’d ‘ave been a right ****** I can’t get enough! What he’d actually also said… had been… “If my mother’s milk'd made me feel this good I’d never have been weened!” I know… Not the most pleasant turn of phrase. But come on - just an old guy - at the end of his days “So pa..Eighty Five? What do you reckon?… A good run?” "Well, apart from the great depression and 2nd World War…It’s been quite fun". but I’d have been a lot happier if your mam hadn’t gone before. What’s the point without her to balance me out… She’d ride shotgun, map read on trips out, and we had laughs galore We were a double act, Morecambe & Wise, Little & Large - Margaret & Bud! That was us! So now I’m right fed up of being on me own…it’s no good - I don’t like flying solo - alone. Being on my tod in the day, well that ain’t so bad. But come the evening the loneliness - it’s driving me ****** mad.” “And now there’s all this ***** He points at where the tubes go. Like this…What’s it really all about? there’s just - well I don’t know… You should be able to choose when it’s time to end - time to go. Not hang around rudderless without your best friend. I’ll be off in a couple of days then you can get on with things not hanging around - worrying about me… and he was right. Just tweak that dial on the drip stand and… I’ll shove off, circle around and choose a new place to land… Don’t worry - There is such a thing as reincarnation you know... So, see you when I find me feet…hopefully - in the afterglow!"

34

Why when they're gone the images linger on and on, it makes me wonder when they're gone echoes that reverberate 'time to get up or you'll be late, wash behind your ears, go and play, dry your tears and we shall go to Morecambe bay' pictures that lighten that brighten are right on the button and all have a say in it somewhere in the way of it and it goes on and on and even when they're gone they become the wandering echoes that move slowly across my day. '

0

May 24, 2016

May 24, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

It makes me wonder

Why when they're gone the images linger on and on, it makes me wonder when they're gone echoes that reverberate 'time to get up or you'll be late, wash behind your ears, go and play, dry your tears and we shall go to Morecambe bay' pictures that lighten that brighten are right on the button and all have a say in it somewhere in the way of it and it goes on and on and even when they're gone they become the wandering echoes that move slowly across my day. '

28

true story. 'yeah, she came to the clinic for an ultrasound and then went down to Morecambe Prom' for confirmation' and the room lit up for me I'm thinking, Gypsy Rose Lee, she went to see Gypsy Rose Lee, for confirmation? my faith in everything was restored. Sadly, it seemed there was another private scan, done down on the Prom' and that's where she went. the balloon burst and the ruins of everything stared me in the face.

0

Dec 28, 2023

Dec 28, 2023 at 9:42 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Tuning into a conversation

true story. 'yeah, she came to the clinic for an ultrasound and then went down to Morecambe Prom' for confirmation' and the room lit up for me I'm thinking, Gypsy Rose Lee, she went to see Gypsy Rose Lee, for confirmation? my faith in everything was restored. Sadly, it seemed there was another private scan, done down on the Prom' and that's where she went. the balloon burst and the ruins of everything stared me in the face.

19

This August day we set out across the ever shifting sands at Morecambe bay mechanics if the heart can mend, tending flock taking stick and stock to and of the tidal movement. The cockles black, ******* against the sea, good for food and food for tea. we turn away from Grange and rearrange internal compass heading for home shore. This we see and all of this is free always should be but you can never tell however until hell freezes over Morecambe bay we will forever have this August day.

0

Aug 4, 2016

Aug 4, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Treasure stores

This August day we set out across the ever shifting sands at Morecambe bay mechanics if the heart can mend, tending flock taking stick and stock to and of the tidal movement. The cockles black, ******* against the sea, good for food and food for tea. we turn away from Grange and rearrange internal compass heading for home shore. This we see and all of this is free always should be but you can never tell however until hell freezes over Morecambe bay we will forever have this August day.

19

It possesses you depresses you but you're Morecambe rock through and through. I approach the trough of Bowland Northwest lowland. but high land and wooded too new ideas spring to mind yet like the branches of a tree I unwind into a Winter sleep ideas will keep they always do.

0

Dec 18, 2016

Dec 18, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Going home

It possesses you depresses you but you're Morecambe rock through and through. I approach the trough of Bowland Northwest lowland. but high land and wooded too new ideas spring to mind yet like the branches of a tree I unwind into a Winter sleep ideas will keep they always do.

19

Sunday what fun, it's a make hay day a Morecambe Bay day, but London lit on me and the North West's beyond me I can only think fondly of those things left behind. Later I'll be off down to Hackney to mouth off some poetry and sit in on a workshop. First thing in the queue to do is to make coffee.

0

Aug 7, 2022

Aug 7, 2022 at 12:11 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

The mapmaker.

Sunday what fun, it's a make hay day a Morecambe Bay day, but London lit on me and the North West's beyond me I can only think fondly of those things left behind. Later I'll be off down to Hackney to mouth off some poetry and sit in on a workshop. First thing in the queue to do is to make coffee.

15

The sands of Morecambe beach are still there,but out of reach, memories teach me to hold on.

0

Jan 7, 2015

Jan 7, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Ripcords

The sands of Morecambe beach are still there,but out of reach, memories teach me to hold on.

5

The cross that's carved deep because we have to keep a memento. but I know without seeing that someone is keying the code in forever sticking the nails in. Have you been to the place beyond the place where you think you can't face it? it's somewhere behind me, waiting to catch up and grind me down doing a left, right left, right marching off into the, is that daylight? Words fail me as the scales fall away and the Dragon breathes fire across, what was the name of that bay? watching Morecambe on the web cam an old man on a trolleybus going to the fayre.

0

Apr 22, 2017

Apr 22, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Saint George

The cross that's carved deep because we have to keep a memento. but I know without seeing that someone is keying the code in forever sticking the nails in. Have you been to the place beyond the place where you think you can't face it? it's somewhere behind me, waiting to catch up and grind me down doing a left, right left, right marching off into the, is that daylight? Words fail me as the scales fall away and the Dragon breathes fire across, what was the name of that bay? watching Morecambe on the web cam an old man on a trolleybus going to the fayre.

25

It helps me to melt into another day and assists me to flow downstream but not into Morecambe bay because that's a long way away from this underground and down here it's not so clear. I should turn around swim against the current until I've found what it is that I'm looking for. Being brave is a long haul from being strong so I'll carry in with the tidal keep those suicidal thoughts buried deep. and he? he dies on a distant horizon. But there is some good cheer the weekend's almost here and some quality time for me and for mine. Still flowing slowly but going and going is what we all do.

0

Jan 4, 2018

Jan 4, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Rains

It helps me to melt into another day and assists me to flow downstream but not into Morecambe bay because that's a long way away from this underground and down here it's not so clear. I should turn around swim against the current until I've found what it is that I'm looking for. Being brave is a long haul from being strong so I'll carry in with the tidal keep those suicidal thoughts buried deep. and he? he dies on a distant horizon. But there is some good cheer the weekend's almost here and some quality time for me and for mine. Still flowing slowly but going and going is what we all do.

22

This is a stand up routine it's like a bad dream I once had and the weather is bad can you see me laughing? But the tube is no place for a self pity session. Lots of rosy red cheeks I sneak peeks and that's how I know, and quiet too as if the cold's got their tongues the cat's not worried he has nine lives. It's only Tuesday which is nether here nor Morecambe bay but I'm drowning anyway. When I thaw out I'll go out to gnaw at what's left of the morning I might be some time. I should have worn my long johns, a thermal underlay for a ****** cold day but I forgot I won't make that mistake again. He trains his brain to remember but can't remember what for.

0

Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Shrivels

This is a stand up routine it's like a bad dream I once had and the weather is bad can you see me laughing? But the tube is no place for a self pity session. Lots of rosy red cheeks I sneak peeks and that's how I know, and quiet too as if the cold's got their tongues the cat's not worried he has nine lives. It's only Tuesday which is nether here nor Morecambe bay but I'm drowning anyway. When I thaw out I'll go out to gnaw at what's left of the morning I might be some time. I should have worn my long johns, a thermal underlay for a ****** cold day but I forgot I won't make that mistake again. He trains his brain to remember but can't remember what for.

36