Gurgling, burpy bleats
Lolling sloppily from the
Green endangered throats.
Kiss Me Quick
Hey look at me all drenched and wet
Oh forgot you haven’t met me yet
I was left behind on this wrought iron bench
By that bleached blonde wench
I was so glamorous when new
Glittering pink, edged with cream feathers
And a ribbon of blue
She was in awe of my silken rim
When she and her pals were swilling the gin
They hugged and kissed
Cackled with laughter and danced the twist
I was placed aside
But I couldn’t hide
I craved the calmness of the tide
“Here let me try it on!” was the cry
I wanted to curl up and die
My novelty worn off
The night club closed
She wondered on the prom, concrete, sand and sea tickling her toes
In her sleepy state
She watched the fisher men dig for bait
Enfolded by the damp sea mist
She staggered away, shoes in hand, sparkly bracelets on her wrist
Leaving me here for the next misplaced tourist.
Black Angus heifers paddling in the Wyre,
St Peter’s spire and Nicky Nook
brush stroke a pastoral scene.
A landscape from the past,
lacking only country folk and horse-drawn wain.
Ripples circle outwards from hoofs in the
shallow ford between two luscious,
green- mile fields.
They lap contented at the tea-stained water
as it slugs along the Martin-pitted slopes.
Nesting birds dash in and out,
bank left, then right,
fly-catching on the wing,
sky ballerinas in sweet Summer rain.
Today they will not sing their freedom in the sky;
will not mock the beef- boys happy with their lot.
They see the pock-marked soil,
over-flowing with rose-tinted rain
and offer only birdsong in their wake.
Adele V Robinson
Stalking Stanah Saltmarsh Blues
Well I woke up this morning
a memory in mind,
you, soft hipped and glorious,
sweet kissing kind -
but my reed bed was empty
so lust ebbed away…
oh mama, I’ve got them old
saltmarsh blues today.
I stalked you to Stanah
by the widening Wyre,
whose muddy shore ciphers
proclaimed you a liar -
all blue-eyed and blowsy
left soft by the fray…
oh mama, these saltmarsh blues
quite blow me away.
We talked of zonation
like estuarine hex lines,
how time changes everything,
It’s tilting at windmills,
keeping sadness at bay…
oh mama, we’ve all got
our saltmarsh dues to pay.