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An image from PwP Inspiration Corner

We think we’ve seen scene laid before -

for promenaded esplanade

recall when sea and sky seemed one,

lie hex, indistinguishable.

Horizon melt, waned ochre hue,

embracing both sky, briny blue,

for sunset haze but tepid glow -

but we assume staged sight, a norm.

The vanish point, feint watermark,

a silhouette, pair folding seats,

stark lines we too have lounged about

speak memories of sand on strand.

No paddle, sure, turn-ups knee-rolled,

green canvas deck chairs stacked in pile

by ticket man of UDC,

but empty frames yet unresolved.

Some make-up stories, what’s at stake,

search Thermos flask, or bucket, spade,

a landfill site for that Celeste,

and dawning, wonder, early hour?

I hear no shrieks of grandkids, beach,

and question, have these crossed the bar -

a desolation from afar;

maybe two mispers, files somewhere?

25 views3 comments


Alison Blevins
Alison Blevins
Dec 19, 2023

'Mispers' - I had never heard this word until I read your poem and what awonderful word it is conjuring up all sorts of imagery just as your poem does.


Nigel Smith
Nigel Smith
Dec 09, 2023

Enigmatic, wordplay, and of course the Kingsnorth style. I've given your Art some thought a few times but this week revisited via the above,( the poem not Heaven). The culling of rhyme and indeed any and all not strictly needed words, leaves me expecting to find a poem that reads like a list, but it does not! Somehow it flows/ reads easily, and is a treasure!

Stephen Kingsnorth
Stephen Kingsnorth
Dec 09, 2023
Replying to

Thank you! I very nearly did not post it.

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