Sunday, January 11, 2015

Sunday lunch after the storm (Telt dee. But dü widna listen)

Hillswick, 11 January 2015

Buses and fences unwheeled, uprooted
Tossed impatiently aside
Like ill-advised sheds
From B and Q
(Telt dee, telt dee, but du widna listen)

Solar panels ripped from roofs
Rippling like some stray goddess's
1960s Danish jewellery
Lost after a wild night out
At Posers
(Telt dee, telt dee, but dü widna listen)

Hedges of tangle, heaped
On misshapen beaches scoured of bruk
Salmon farmers prowl in Fladen suits
Searching for runaway cages
And boats
(Telt dee, telt dee, but dü widna listen)

In this old wooden hotel
Creaking like a galleon
Beneath swaying chandeliers
We eat and drink the gale goodbye
Pudding? Well...
(Telt dee, telt dee, but dü widna listen).

1 comment:

Erik Z said...

Fine poem :-)