The scene from the seventh.

The rain has moved on for now.

The gulls gather to sip from

pools on the flat felt roof.

Other showers tread toward the city,

I see their beat-up bodies advancing closer.

From the M.D.’s office on the

seventh, I sit back in a leather chair

and savour the view across Brighton.

To the south, islands of green

shade the sea and to the north

the hills are silenced in shadow.

The clouds have become many.

I can’t see beyond

their first few ranks,

and what little light breaks

onto slate and wave

is quickly consumed.

There is no halt in sight,

only the winter storms splitting the

channel water in two, 

like columns at the point

where ancient allies meet.

This Christmas day noon

I’m working shift yet she

is far away I see the

battered shore and

the cold streets uniting

against the coming test,

Like parents

witnessing their child’s

ingratitude for the very first time.

3 Comments

  1. Hi Nick I’ve been reading some of your poems, and I’m quite interested in your writings, I liked these lines from your verse
    “like columns at the point
    where ancient allies meet.”
    And I’d like to thank you for following my blog/website, muchly appreciated, I hope you enjoy reading my humble writings, and ‘m from, Geelong, Australia. Cheers. Ivor.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ivor thanks for stopping by and for taking time to read my work. It’s perfect that you took to heart those couple of lines.

      This site is a work in progress. Site is under construction but I’ll get there.

      Thanks again and I am going to go through your works to have a good read. Cheers from Brighton, England.

      Liked by 1 person

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