Tag Archives: #Gulls

Old string vest

The gulls flew east,

and the gulls flew west;

I stood there watching them

In my old string vest.


Until, the police came along

and arrested me –

well, it was just a careless oversight, you see;

I wanted to see the gulls flying east,

and the gulls lying west,

and all I managed to put on

was my old string vest –



Glorious birds of the sea,

that mean so much to me;

in picture caught,

as only ought

to be.

The gull and the magpie

The gull and the magpie were deep in conversation

Magpie: Well, there is a song about Magpies.

Gull: indeed. Someone once wrote a book with a gull as the title character.

Magpie: And there is another song about Magpies.

Gull: Two songs! Wow! But… every song there is, that ever was, that has ‘girl’ in the title can be sung using the word ‘gull’ instead. Lots of songs.

Magpie: Really. I think most birds have a song or two written about them: Nightingales, Robins, Eagles, Albatrosses (or Albatrossi), Blackbirds, Magpies, so, it’s nothing special.

Gull. True. But the numbers do favour gulls: ‘Gulls just want to have fun’, ‘It’s different for gulls’, ‘Some gulls’, ‘Gulls, gulls, gulls’, and so on.

Magpie: But Magpies are ‘pies’ and everybody loves pies.

Gull: Maggoty Pie? I think not. Everybody loves gulls.

Magpie: I don’t think that ‘everybody’ does love gulls – have you seen all the signs at the seasides and the quaysides? ‘Don’t feed the Seagulls – they are vicious!’

Gull: No such thing as a seagull. We are all just gulls of the sea. Anyway, we’ve just had a bad press. It’s not as if ‘we’ can put up signs saying, ‘Watch out for the people – they are liable to be vicious if you take their ice-creams or pasties!’

They are holding those things aloft for us, and then they get all upset when we accept their offerings. People are so very stupid.

Magpie: You are very persuasive, gull; and, yet, I do believe that Magpies have had (and do have) more poems written about them: ‘Magpie in a Rainbow’, ‘Magpie up a tree’, ‘The Magpie’, and hundreds more!

Gull; Maybe even a dozen.

Magpie: ‘A gull a day keeps the tourist away’:

Gull: You made that up!

Magpie: some of it. But, I dare say there are many more in that vein.

Gull: Probably. I must say that I do ike you, Magpie.

Magpie: Magpies are very likeable birds, once you get to know them.

Gull: As are gulls.

Magpies: unless you’ve ever lost your ice-cream or pasty to one.

Gull: True, very true.

I went to sea

I went to sea

to see the sea

and all I saw

were sea-saws,

sea saws,

all I saw were sea-saws.


How weird was that,

how weird?

For all I saw were sea-saws.


I went to sea

to sea a gull,

and all I saw were seagulls,


all o saw were seagulls.


Which is less weird

than seeing sea-saws,


much less weird than sea-saws.

Heading to the coast

Inland is an island

kept away from the sea;

why should it be,

that I

should yearn

to earn

the reward

of a day on the coast,

with the sound of the sea

echoing in my ears,

gulls, boats, and three loud cheers,

all calling to me.

White on green

White on green

under blue with white and grey.


A gull flies right to left

with plenty to say,

and, when it’s gone,

I feel bereft.

Where be they?

Where be the cows?

Where be they?

“In a field full of gulls,

with too much to say,

is there no room

for a grass-chewing herd?”

I ask the gulls,

“Nothing to do with us.” they say.

Seagulls flying backwards

Seagulls flying backwards,

(It’s such a wet windy day)

busy going nowhere,

with nothing much to say.

The wind beneath my wings

I’m happiest when I’m flying,

trying to stay aloft, crying

with joys – yes, that’s me

making that noise.


Riding the currents,

going where the mood takes me,

diving or soaring,

pouring my heart into the moments.


When I do land,

I stand, and look wistfully up,

to the heavens,

and yearn for when I am there once more.

Gulls: Jacks or Jills?

You can tell by the gills

of the gulls

whether they are Jacks

or Jills.

Unless gulls don’t have gills.

I have checked:

a gull has no gills,

they are not fish,

and, probably, never were.

The plumage is the thing

to catch the gender of the… gull.

But, even then, only an expert,

or a very experienced non-expert

can truly tell.

Well, who knew? Not I,

not you.

They used to be called Mews,

and went around in ones or twos –

that was long, long, long ago,

and they are now called that

by nobody

that I know.

But, if you hear a poet

saying that his muse has left him (or her)

it might (but shouldn’t) occur

to you

that he is talking about

his gull.

That scenario

I have to doubt.