Beyond the Raindrops

Pen & Wash . . . WHB : 2017

Beyond the Raindrops

 The storm arrives
And sates the air

I venture out
For you I dare

After the shower
I know where

Above the clouds
You have your lair

Beyond the Raindrops
I’ll find you there

Your beauty with

The rain you share

Your tears with raindrops
I compare

To your sorrow’s end
I offer a prayer

No disenchantment
Can I bear

Of fate and death
I’m unaware

Since that first day
You me ensnared

All else for you
I do forswear

You’ll ever be

My love affair

Released Into Life

Life lacks lustre
And my world is grey;
As it re-awakes,
Is it here to stay?

I’ve slumbered long
In my cocoon,
Sheltered and shielded
‘Neath a midday moon.

Spring with its joy
Struggles to bring
Its warmth and colour,
Its song to sing.

But after the storm
The clouds disperse;
I await with hope
To end my verse.

Death Wish at Sea

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

The storm was predicted,
Jet black was the sky,
But I  needed to cross,
I remember not why.

The ship sailed for Dublin,
I knew I must try
To bolster my nerves
My fear to defy.

A storm was predicted,
Air pressure awry.
Not for the first time
I feared I would die.

But that storm was a beast
And I let out a cry,
‘Please Lord do listen,
Oh please let me die!’

But we made it across
That dread Irish Sea,
But I’ve never yet mastered
My fears. Let them be!

 

What The Sea Discards

What The Sea Discards:   Life with a Beach Metal Detector

The sea still surged,
The storm still raged,
The wind incessant,
A beast uncaged.

Amidst the tempest,
Calm, intent,
Body taut
And forward bent,

Moves this figure
With steady tread,
Seeking gold,
His daily bread.

Sift the shingle
Trawl the shore,
Seashore scavenger
Beach troubadour.

Autolycus, his
Ancient counterpart,
Plying his trade
With bleeding heart,

To find amongst
The sea’s debris
His longed for love,
Life’s golden key.

Something to clutch
Dredged from life’s tide;
A token wish,
Beatified.

Photographs by WHB:  On a West Sussex beach – October 2017   ©

 

 

The PIER

Eastbourne Pier, Sussex, England: Photo – WHB, October, 2017  ©

 

As bravely my finger points to the sea
my peninsular pretences extend
for a while
my efforts at ocean reclamation
enabling land and sea to merge
countryside and shore
to meet and mingle
in mutual admiration

Taking my insatiable
search for pleasure
beyond its brief

Public pleasuring
made manifest
another pleasure garden
to add to nature’s own
another wonderworld
to vie with nature’s gifts

My destiny
Buffeted by wind and wave
invaded by rust and rot
attacked by frost
at risk from fire

I exist
On time borrowed
from the eye of the storm
grateful
whilst it continues
for the ocean’s grace

and so
I continue to proffer my splendours
To the denizens of my retreats
sea anglers and photo booths
Shops and tearooms
wurlitzers and waltzers
penny arcades
mirror halls
ghost trains and dodgems
all beneficiaries
of my daring
my bravery in simply existing

Hastings Pier, Sussex

Clevedon Pier, Somerset

Southend Pier, Essex – ‘the longest pleasure pier in the world’

 

Beyond the Raindrops

Pen & Wash … WHB – 2017

 The storm arrives
And sates the air

I venture out
For you I dare

After the shower
I know where

Above the clouds
You have your lair

Beyond the Raindrops
I’ll find you there

Your beauty with
The rain you share

Your tears with raindrops
I compare

To your sorrow’s end
I offer a prayer

Of fate and death
I’m unaware

No disenchantment
Can I bear

Since that first day
You me ensnared

All else for you
I do forswear

You’ll ever be
My love affair

A RIVER REMEMBERS

Lynmouth, North Devon … Pen and Wash … WHB – 1997

From the high moor
cries a river

Long lingering Lyn
stretches her arms
from the  east
and from the west
faltering
before then
slowly
gathering the courage
to continue

Until at last
separately
these fledgling rivers
tumble
less tentative now
more fluent
and sure
almost impetuous
towards each other
through their sovereign gorges

Plummeting now
to where their destined
waters meet
in conscious confluence

A stillness then returns
caution again prevailing
tentative once more,
remembering,
regretting,
still grieved
by distant memory

But now able
with measured movement
to veer past
 the lighthouse
by the river’s mouth
and to slip softly
 into the welcoming sea.

On 15 and 16 August 1952, a storm of tropical intensity broke over south-west England, depositing 9 inches of rain within 24 hours on the already saturated soil of Exmoor, North Devon.  The East and West Lyn rivers, which drop down from Exmoor, were swollen even before the storm.   Debris-laden flood waters cascaded down the northern escarpment of the moor, much of it converging upon the village of Lynmouth in particular.   In the upper West Lyn valley, a dam was formed by fallen trees, etc., but in due course this gave way, sending a huge wave of water and debris down the river.

Overnight, more than 100 buildings were destroyed or seriously damaged along with 28 of the 31 bridges, and 38 cars were washed out to sea. In total, 34 people died, with a further 420 made homeless. The seawall and lighthouse survived the main flood, but were seriously undermined. The lighthouse collapsed into the river the next day.

(Notes adapted from Wikipedia)