Wednesday, July 4

A Poem for Thursday.


The Outing to Dungeness
Prospect Cottage



Basically it was just a hut
A fisherman’s hut
Along with all the other huts
Now I love a hut
I would like a hut by the sea
Not too much to keep tidy
And the sound and smell of it all…


Basically it was not really a garden
Just the way you collect bits of plants along the beach
And hope that they might take root
And help you to remember that day
By the sea on the beach
In the shingle…

Really it was not sculpture
Not what those earnest artists
Like Andy or the Welsh man would think of as sculpture
More like me when I walked the sands at Ballyferris
And picked up the rubbish that the others had dropped
Well I say the rubbish
I never actually thought of it that way…


Really I wasn’t too sure about the yellow windows
And the writing on the end wall
All about the sun
Though the mist obscured it that day
And the words were a bit small
Now that my eyesight is not what it was…


So what made me cry?
For it was only a fisherman’s hut
It was only the shingle all around it by the road
It was only railway sleepers upended
Standing like a modern Stonehenge
And the perfume of the gorse
And the yellow horned poppies…

No really …there was not much there you know.


[This was the day that we went looking for Derek Jarman's house on the shingle in that magic spot called Dungeness. The brochure say the largest area of shingle in Europe. Full of wild sea flowers, protected by the local authorities....mysteriously beautiful.]


5 comments:

  1. i think a hut would be a pretty cool idea...esp if it had some cool writing on the wall...that was very interesting to me...and rubbish to some is treasure to others for sure...smiles...

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  2. It is an aea I don't know at all Gerry but I have always wanted to see Derek Jarman's garden too.

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  3. I enjoy the tone you have created in this poem. I want to be there too!

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  4. I enjoy the tone you have created in this poem. I want to be there too!

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  5. Dungeness - what an odd place. Whenever I go there, often on the little train from Hythe I feel like I've gone to another planet. There is part of me fancies moving there for the last years of my life

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