Index of a Few Words

Nobody holidays in Margate anymore

apart from lonely artists seeking the modern

children no longer touch the clouds

with their sandy spades

and perch with amazing balance

on the splendid steps

near the Victorian clock

 

These steps are washed twice a day

by the reluctant tides

but are only peopled

by faceless refugees

escaping from other peoples wars

 

If it rains they stare at the sea

from the once grand hotels

where I might have stayed

some seven decades ago

but time limits memory

and all doors now look the same

 

Margate 2014  (Extract 1))

in the main town there are many café’s

with green and blue chairs

that match the sea

on the few fine days

that occur each summer

the arty set tired of the galleries

will retire to these tables

and order coffees

that will last an hour

Tennant and Stephens
Glenconner and Mills
Will discuss
Poetry and painting
Sculpture and pills

 

Margate 2014  (Extract 2)

They will watch the green man

at the pelican crossing

and wait for the seaside clock

to strike one

but its melody

as it is each day

will be lost in the passing traffic

fresh from Cliftonville equally faded

 

Margate 2014 (Extract 3)

Barefoot mothers in jeans

rolled up to their knees

will take their toddlers

to the sad sea line

and wash their hands

of the conspicuous vetch

which the children have touched

on the journey down

which is a mystery

as it only exists

in this grubby town