Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Wild Swimming?

Lake Days...

August lakeside late afternoon beach -
almost forgotten by the moving lowering sun -
the pebbles warm, for now;
golden forms of late day swimmers.
The tiny white peach-likes exposed for me; are quickly gone.

Lapping edge pebbles move once more,
the lake changing
shape, changing colour.

The heat subsides; the evening beckons
as the sun moving
catches patches and people part; for now.

The girls lie at the water's edge, half in half out
of the warm cooling lake, tossing the fine pebbles
lost in child dreams.

They conspire, giggling
in first friendly intimacy; none allowed in,
not the elderly couple stumbling
along the shingle shore - long past intimacy.
They pass; the lost girls giggle more hidden in their game.

Just off; a man swims, a strong crawl
easy breathing stroke past the buoys
and back again.

The lapping water here
crashes, smashes,
against the harbour bar wall.


Today; glass like grey but green once in,
and warm as my arms break through the fresh expanse.
Cooler lower and clear down to stones,
peeking up from sandy patches.
The tiny perch dart away from threat in the lower silence.

Saturday, 18 August 2012

Mid-August heatwave afternoon beach; pebbled,
and I'm sweating so refresh in warm lake calm and shiny top flat,
but bubbled froth-like as it laps around my shoulders.

My hands strike through, straight and turn,
and brown skinned arms break through the green lighted water
as it quietly laps about me.

10 minutes -

I circle once and see the drift...
I pull forward,
the fresh soft water, unsalted, pulls me down.
I wouldn't float.

The noises of playthings nearby, and cries of babies...

15 minutes and I'm glad.
Still strike forward but turn larger circles of fresh once wild,
once mountain stream,
now valley torrent plunged deep
and rising years later.

20 minutes and I smile,
that satisfaction mounts;
what have I gained?

Freedom; momentarily.

Thursday, 2 August 2012

Poem for a former lover...

furiously flapping flags
in wild windy weather,
worn outside/ inside
late lunch laughing lads leering longingly at leggy lovely,
louching her brothel stew.
Interruptions; mobiles manipulating the mood...
bottles débouched and corks coming,
the sound of wine escaping captivity amongst the unintelligible gabbles;
French flung frantically in between the chairs and the old cuir walls...

And you think you'd love this ?