"southend" poems
Today I had a bout of acute-you shyness
one where I try to pretend I don't notice
but have you noticed how difficult it is
when outside idles but inside there's a race
to views like you leaning side to side
on the motorcycle ride slot machine
driving my eyes to sly around your slides
taking them wide as when I was eighteen
I'd look for curves at Southend pier's end
give out stares and start to take in scenes
of free amusement at the Fun Bump arcade
around and around the circuit you rode
I was lapping up your every move
sneaking a view through the coin drop
peeping behind the pinball of Dr Who
prying open the photo booth curtain gap
faux testing the mallet with your strength
playing air hockey with my thoughts
were your short chic bangs a wig?
they sit so still I long for the straights
then swing to one side with a leg
tight vibrant jeans in hairpin bends
ironing out where the centre line is damp
polishing the dashing leather saddle
vibrating with wrist twist contempt
loveliness revving up to red line
exploding in my face with daring
this bike crash heart of mine
please forgive not stopping staring
a race course habit never outgrown
I go too fast and of course I fall
in love as bad as deeply madly
but the fact that it's with you.. well
I have to forgive myself this malady
I'm a side-road heading for a spin
on ways to tell you you're beautiful
dangerously close I risk self harm
imagining that colour of pink and pale
the flush u-turn will be a charm
If I can get you climbing off
hot and flustered
I’ll have done my pit stop job
at once a chance encounter
and a fateful winning score
to let you know you've entered
into being my prize draw
I'll walk away but don't be sore
it's up to you to take it further
but just know one thing more
that if you call me to confirm
and tell me that I’m worth it
I would turn around so fast
the world would gearshift
and wait
but not in neutral
for us
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
We camped down
the first night
in some old
caravan
sleeping bags
everywhere
outside Bruges
next morning
we wake up
all cramped up
and annoyed
where are our
tents meant to
be set up?
Dalya asks
the guide says
got held up
just rang them
be here soon
he tells her
have breakfast
in the bar
and wait there
so we do
8 of us
4 young males
and females
have coffee
and pancakes
and a smoke
what a joke
Dalya says
we walk out
together
walk about
the camp site
you're Benny?
She asks me
yes that's right
what a crowd
for camping
a mother
and daughter
some teacher
from Southend
some Yorkshire
girl loud mouth
and Aussie
and the guide
Dalya says
do we share
two a tent?
I ask her
same sexes
she replies
so I'm with
Yorkshire lass
I suppose
Aussie's yours
she tells me
the teacher's
with the guide
at the next
base camp place
I like her
her spirit
her tight curls
and dark hair
and small bust
we walk back
to the old
caravan
for our bags
and our stuff
keep with me
Dalya says
and we'll see
how it goes
at the next
camping site
and maybe
she whispers
we can share
a whole night.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
In Hamburg
an American girl
climbed aboard
sitting next
to the Southend teacher
with the spectacles
and loud mouth
and she looked back
at the rest of you
and said
Hi you guys
how’s it going?
murmured replies returned
Moira said
behind
her cupped mouth
a ******* Yank
is all we need
you looked
windowward
spying new buildings
post-war
the could-be-any-where
kind of set up
the driver drove off
the Polish mother
and daughter
muttered
in their tongue
Moira’s hips
pushed into yours
as the mini bus
turned sharp
down some side street
the American girl
chatted up
the driver
some long haired
hippy type
smoking and puffing
and you remembering
the night before
the tent up
the canvas tight
and you and Billy
down on your bags
he staring up
at the canvas
green and unclean
you listening to Moira
in the next tent
sharing with some
unfortunate giving it
the rant and rave
about some misgivings
in her Glasgow tone
Billy raising his eyes
in disbelief
and you wondering
if ever she silenced
her tongue and tone
and charmed her
fearsome stare
whether you’d be happy there
lying beside her
kissing her neck
or lips or cheek
or nestling between
her small plump ****
but looking beside you
as the mini bus
moved off at a pace
you saw her sour face glare
at the American’s head
and thought you’d rather kiss
the old Polish mother instead.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Was out past Southend,
about eleven thirty five,
Saw a whole troop of girls,
dancing very much alive;
I struggled to my feet,
slapped a smile across my face,
Turned my sallow gaze
toward their alcoholic grace.
I said "evening ladies," and
I just tipped my hat, but
Hell, no sorry luck for this
shabby-legged cat. They ascer-
Tained a certain thought and
laughed into the night,
Quite the effervescent attitude
for the solemn moonlight. So with no
Pennies in my cap despite my
earnest little ditty, I just got
Right back on the train and rode it
straight into the city.
The conductor with his cyanide in
silver coated capsules, takes a
Tricolor mandolin and
plays it to relax you. A
Beggar on the chairs emitting
insight by the glass, and a
Banker saying prayers for our
little midnight mass. Be-
Spoke attire from far away to
dress your tired frame, and a
Medal and a badge with which to
decorate your name.
Tracks of steel and sterling pounds to
take you where you please, with
Speed unwavered, flying through with
masochistic ease. I got my
Map and made it through, to
Angel up on high,
Got off the train in pouring rain,
with nurses passing by.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 5:13 PM UTC
Oslo that summer
having left the base camp
and the tent
with the Australian guy
(he was with the Yank girl)
you walked about
looking at the sights
Moira beside you
in her denims
and white tee shirt
and her hair frizzed
after a shower
(which she had taken alone
worse luck)
and she was talking
about the Yank girl
with whom she shared
her tent
O the perfume she wears
I’d rather sleep
in a tent
with a camel
than with her
and her voice
***** my head
and do you know
I've heard about
her love life
from the very beginning
I’d rather spend the night
listening to a duck quack
you nodded
and listened
taking in her fire talk
her four letters words
filling the air
floating there
like black
angry birds
you can share with me
any time
well you could
if I didn't have
the Australian guy there
smelling of beer
and talking about Sheilas
and how he did this
and that
you said
no
Moira said
and have them
talk about me too
no I’m not that
kind of girl
besides
how would we work it
to allow that to be?
don't get so angry
about things
why do you Scots
get so moody?
it's not just us
she said
it's the ******* world's
view of us
as wee tight ********
when we're not
anyway
she went on
giving you the stare
what do you
know of Scots?
lived in Edinburgh
for a while
you said
nice place
so much history
well there you go
she said
anyway what’s that
got to do
with the Yank *****
and her perfume
and the love life
of a ******* rabbit
nothing I guess
you said
I think she's over here
studying art
O then
that explains it
the way she has
the I-couldn’t-go-a-day
-without- a man's- ****
-in-me
kind of talk
and philosophy
Moira said
spitting out words
like broken teeth
what about a beer?
you said
chill out
and take in a view
and have a smoke
and I can tell you
of my love life?
the beer's a good idea
but I’m not so keen
on the tales
of your **** life
she said
so you found a bar
off a street
and sat outside
with two beers
and a couple of smokes
and you wondering
how she bedded
and how indeed
to get her into your tent
and what to do
with the Australian guy
and the Yank dame
and off she went again
moaning about
the Southend
teacher guy
did you see him
at the from
of the mini bus
giving it all
that talk of history
and that Lancaster *****
all ears and ******* teeth ?
you sat and smiled
listening to her
talking of herself
and the world's grief.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
Lydia sat
on the red
painted tile doorstep
waiting to see
if Benny
would come along
she breathed heavily
angry and frustrated
her mother had just
told her that she(Lydia)
and Benny could not
go to Edinburgh
or Southend by train
as they had wished
she had tried to explain
to her mother the plan
but her mother
wasn't having it
in fact she had bellowed
NO NO NO so loud
that her big sister Gloria
was disturbed drunkenly
in the bed
she shared with Lydia
she watched the milkman
pull up in his
horse drawn wagon
and take out 2 bottles of milk
and walked with them
across the way
and put them on
the doorstep
then walked back
the horse was eating
from a nosebag
Lydia sat
a few more minutes
if Benny hadn't showed
she'd go and find him
and tell him the bad news
the man with the boxer dog
walked past
doffed his cap
and smiled
then walked on
then she saw Benny
galloping(on his pretend horse)
up from the slope
and into the Square
she stared at him
then waved him over
he galloped towards her
she felt angry and tearful
Benny rode up
to the red
painted tile doorstep
what's up?
he said smiling
we can't go
she said pouting
can't go where?
he said
his horse vanishing
into thin air
can't go to Edinburgh
or Southend by train
she said
who said?
he said
my mum said
no no no
but louder
Lydia said
Benny sat on the doorstep
beside her
she said at 9
we were too young
Lydia said
looking at him
her lower lip
pouting more
I'll have a word
with her
Benny said
turning around
to stare
at the front door
won't make
any difference
she said no
Lydia said
persuasion can
sometimes work
Benny said
my mum said if
you want something
bad enough
you must
like that Scottish king bloke
try and try again
you can try I suppose
Lydia said
they got up
from the step
and Benny knocked
on the front door
and they waited
the door opened
(after a few minutes)
and Lydia's mother
stood there
hair in a scarf
and a cigarette
hanging from the corner
of her mouth
and arms folded
why'd you knocked
the door?
she said to Lydia
you bloomin live here
I knocked
Benny said
what do you
want then?
the mother said
we want to go
to Southend
Benny said
we are willing
to forgo Edinburgh
until later
but Southend is a must
for us as a sort
of a trial run
the mother stared
at him coldly
I've told her
now I'm telling you
you're too young to go
anywhere at 9 years old
so the answer
is the same
NO
she bellowed
and slammed
the door shut
Benny stared
at the door
Lydia sat down again
and stared at the milkman
walking his horse along
to the next block of flats
plan B
the Benny said
plan B?
Lydia said
what's that?
we go anyway
but say nothing
to them
he said
arms folded
a determined look
about his face
do we dare?
she said
of course
Benny said
working the plan b out
inside his
9 year old head.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
Go where?
Lydia's mother said
Southend
Lydia said
you can't go to Southend
on your own
I'm not going
on my own
I'm going with Benny
her mother
stared at her
Benny?
Go with Benny?
You're both too young
to go to ****** Southend
what put that thought
into your mind?
Her mother said
we talked about it
when we were
at King's Cross station
who is we?
The mother said
Benny and me
Lydia said frowning
********* her fingers
o so you talked it over
o that's all right
then is it?
The mother said
just to Southend
as a first run
then we want to go
to Scotland
Lydia said
SCOTLAND
her mother bellowed
are you mad you two?
You can't go
to ****** Scotland
at your age
what 9 years old
and want to go Scotland
and alone?
The mother stared
at Lydia
as if she was mad
Lydia wished
Benny was there
he had a way with words
he might be able
to put it better
whose idea was it?
Both of us
Lydia said
we thought it
would be good
and we could go
to Edinburgh
and see men in kilts
and see the castle
NO NO NO
the mother bellowed
Lydia lowered her head
and gazed at
her mother's slippers
you can't go to Scotland
or Edinburgh
or Southend
not alone
the mother said quieter
staring at her daughter
when can we go then?
Lydia said
looking at
her mother's
stockinged legs
when you are old enough
and we say so
her mother said
when will be old enough?
Lydia said
gazing at her mother's
blue patterned apron
when we say so
her mother said
and walked off
back to the kitchen
where the boiler
was boiling washing
and steam came down
the passageway
Lydia sighed
and opened the front door
and went out
to find Benny
and tell him the bad news
and not being able
to see the Edinburgh views.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 4:42 AM UTC
Underbelly of seabirds
As
White blue grey sky
Scrolls above.
Feathers frolic on
Thermal waves
Unknown to eyes
On Southend pier.
Rusting legs step out to
Sea
Swell and cresting small
Over silted bed
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 1:12 AM UTC
This summer's almost over
I sit in a south end coffee bar
Wondering exactly what I did
To warrant a fall this hard
I'm writing again
But it's all useless ****
I curse entirely to much
My moods these days lack wit
I'm half angry
Half broken
And two halves sad
That's too much emotion for one person
No wonder I can't sleep
No wonder I'm going mad
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
I don't like Flensburg
Dalya said
as we rode
in the passenger carrier
she next to me
at the back
the Polish girl
and her mother
having changed seats
for a different view
the Southend teacher prat
still in the front
with the driver and guide
I want to be out of Germany
my dad was in Germany
in the War
she said
she stared at the passing view
not sure where he was
he didn't say much about it
I looked at her sitting there
the green top
and tight blue jeans
her dark hair
pulled in a bunch
at the back
my old man was in Egypt
in the War
I said
what did he do there?
she said
fought the Desert Fox
were there foxes in Egypt?
he was a German general
in the north African fight
called Rommel
the fight was called Rommel?
I looked at the nape
of her neck
the love bite
still there
remembering her
in her tent
unclothed and bare
no the general
was called Rommel
I said
was your old man
as you term him
the general?
I remember her *******
like two small jelly moulds
shaking there
no he wasn't a general
he was an engineer
he mended tanks
somewhat lower
in the ranks
she pointed out a church
as we passed it by
my father said he prayed
in a church in Germany
I rememberer that
she said
I remembered her
laying there
unclothed completely bare
a soft aroma
of onions
hanging in the air.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
Lydia sat
on the red painted
brick front doorstep
of her parents'
ground floor flat,
in a mood,
fuming,
elbows on her knees,
chin on hands,
staring out
at the Square.
Behind her
in the flat
her parents rowed:
he arguing he had
come home drunk,
yes, but he had
sung to her:
I'll walk you
home again Kathleen,
and she(the wife)
saying: and all
the fecking Square
could hear you,
and I'm not Kathleen,
so who the fecks
this Kathleen?
Her big brother Hem
was out pulling wings
off butterflies or flies
or teasing the girls
on the block.
Her big sister Gloria
snoozed hangovered
in the bed snoring.
Lydia wanted
Benny to come by,
wanted his ear to hear,
his voice to calm her
and make her pleased.
The baker drew up
in his horse-drawn wagon
and got off
and got loaves
from the back
and took them
to the flats he knew.
She watched him walk,
and his horse
stand still nose
in a nosebag, eating.
The rows indoors
continued.
The horse stood
still eating.
Benny came across
from his parents' flat
upstairs,
hazel eyed
and quiff of brown hair
and a smile.
What are you
doing sitting there?
He said.
Waiting for you,
she said.
What's up?
He asked.
She nodded back
towards the flat
behind her
and rowing voices.
What's it about?
He asked.
Dad came home
drunk last night,
singing to the new moon
and my mother
on the doorstep
and an unholy hour,
she said.
And so?
Said Benny,
what's new?
He sang I'll walk
you home again Kathleen
and my mum's
not Kathleen,
Lydia said.
Where we going?
He said.
Not Southend or Edinburgh
that's for sure,
she said,
somewhere to get
away from this
until the air is cleared.
London Bridge
train station watch
the steam trains,
have glasses of milk
and biscuits?
He said,
I've some money.
She nodded,
looked back
the rowing flat,
sighed and took his hand
and walked through
the Square leaving
the rowing behind,
and down the slope
to get the bus
to the station.
Benny by her side,
walking and talking,
watching boys
on the wall,
rude words chalking.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
Out of flanders mud
He crawled
Dulce et decorum est
Over southend pier i trudged
Pro patria mori
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC