A Trawler’s Resting Place

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TheStade 6

Photograph at the Stade, Hastings, by WHB – October 2017   ©

 

THE STADE  (Hastings)

A Trawler’s Resting Place

 

desolate and deconstructed
now at rest
my remnant life
so inexorably sea-linked 
still confronted
and yet consoled
by those waves
forever beating
on the shingle
of my shore

here on the stade
in the first throes of death
it is my destined fate
to pass on my faith
to those who succeed me

for hope exists
rebirth is on offer
amidst the rigours
of a relentless sea
on my pebbled bed
above the tides
prow still proudly fronting
those endless tides
white waves
bursting at my bows

resting at last
only my memories
trawling my sea-going past
recapturing the rapture
of my vibrant youth
the courageous tenor
of my old life
now entombed
beside my brethren
brothers in desuetude
companions of my death in life
the mystery of my history
encapsulated in this
maritime minster
my tomb inscribed
with my exploits
embedded
within the planking of my hull
and the bulkheads of my carcass

but … no shipshape shrine
rather sea-scavengers paradise
Davy Jones the organ donor
salty entrails examined
my sea-going body parts
prized and picked over
human gulls
ancient sea-dog mariners
making claim again
to my once upon a time worth
my parts in death available
transplanting hope
bringing new life to old

what the sea has not already claimed
remains
to tempt a new generation
regeneration offered
my hull disembowelled
stripped to its frame
rust freed
reclaimed
renamed
fading sea-life re-empowered
man’s eternal battle with the sea
love-hate affirmed
continued and confirmed
empowering new sea ventures

harbingers of a new generation
to be subjected once more
to the ocean’s
recondite whim
and arcane  grace

 

wavylines-blue-longest

 

13 thoughts on “A Trawler’s Resting Place”

  1. I like this very much Roland, you had me hooked with the line
    ‘still confronted
    and yet consoled
    by those waves
    forever beating
    on the shingle
    of my shore’
    I feel a few reads will peel & reveal !

    Like

  2. I love that old fishing boat where it presides so golden and grand in spite of possibly being too old to repair. I have downloaded the picture in my photo file.
    Your poem is as always both deep and beautifully written. A treat to read.
    The analogy between the trawler and the man is so very strong.
    As is all you say in this beautiful and intelligent poem.

    Most fishermen I knew loved the sea to their dying days and would continue to take part in some tasks at the harbour even in their nineties. Teaching tricks to the young and just be by the sea they always loved.

    Like

  5. I agree with Nigel, this is one to re-visit and re-read over the coming days. It was a strange experience wandering through these boats on the beach at The Stade and you have brought a lot of the experience back to mind with this excellent poem Roland.

    Like

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