Tag Archives: #Gulls

‘Where have all the people gone?’

Where have all the people gone?

I walked through the town

where eating is spare,

there wasn’t a single person there!

I sat on the beach with no cool ‘99,

the sun shone brightly,

the sand was so fine;

but, ne’er did I hear the cry of:

‘Watch out, he’ll have your food!”

No, not a person to be seen,

how very rude.

I wish the people would return,

I would dive-bomb a snack;

oh, where, where are the people?

I do hope they will soon venture back.

Where have all the people gone?

I’d love a fresh pasty, a lolly, a scone;

I need the people to take their share,

my diet is ruining me beyond repair.

Oh, where, oh, where, have all the people gone?

©️graemesandford.com

“Happy Oyster-Catcher!”

I wished them a ‘Happy Oyster!”

they didn’t catch my drift;

they just stood upon the shoreline,

waiting for the tide to shift,

it reminded me

of the gulls I knew

when I was just a lad,

they treated me with ridicule

as I was such a cad.

“We get a bad press, we do.”

We are not as bad

as you might have read,

but some people seem

to want us dead;

others feel we are a threat

to their seaside snack

before it’s eat;

but we are not the foe;

no, not at all,

we just seek food

for it’s food we lack,

and we’ve become accustomed

to what you let fall;

and once we’ve snatched it…

do you really want it back?

The Seagulls and the Crows

The seagulls and the crows

were lined up in rows,

waiting to see the movie;

the crows had booked,

but the seagulls overlooked

booking in advance,

they were lucky, by chance,

that it wasn’t that busy tonight.

The crows were in rows A, B and C,

row C, obviously;

the seagulls just perched

wherever they could,

and awaited the start of the film;

a Hitchcock classic,

not a Park, Jurassic,

was what they had flocked here for,

they had heard the words

of Little Miss Muffet,

who, whilst eating her whey,

and supping her curds,

atop of a grassy tuffet,

had spread the news,

‘Tonight, at the flicks,

they are showing The Birds!’

The ghosts of Seagulls haunt my waking hours

The ghosts of Seagulls haunt my waking hours

The ghosts of seagulls

haunt my waking hours;

and various nefarious

other seabirds,

taunt me at night;

the Herring Gulls,

in particular,

have taken a

particular dislike

to me,

and attack me,

physically,

mercilessly;

whilst the Great Black-Backed Gulls

mock me from aloft,

call me soft,

and hurt me to the quick;

I feel sick

of all the birds

of the sea,

that do so hate me.

The Seagull Flies

The Seagull Flies

The Seagull Flies are just like your average, everyday, flies; except that they do have an incessant hankering for dive-bombing innocent holidaymakers at the seaside, and subtracting their recently purchased thoroughfares from their weedy little grasps – to the accompaniment of gasps of disbelief, cries of grief, and bemoanings of great, but ultimately insignificant, loss.

Herring Daffogulls?

Herring Daffogulls?

I wandered lonely as a gull;

that trawls the boats from Looe to Hull,

who follows after little ships,

in search for fish

and maybe chips;

and, if I’m lucky,

or very plucky,

I might just crest

and wave goodbye

my hidden dips.

Seagull Swoops

Seagull Swoops

Seagull swoops,

loops the loops,

and captures the moment,

that you lost your food,

forever, in your mind

the bird that had designs upon your treat;

swiped by beak and feet

in one mad rush of adrenalin…

gone!

But not forgotten,

as the gull gulps

his Ill-gotten gains,

upon your parade fall the rains.

Spiralling Out Of Control

Spiralling Out Of Control

I am in a spiral,

my latest poem is going viral,

it has reached three,

maybe four,

people,

in the two hours since I posted it –

people must love poems about gulls

and, now, I must be off to write some more

poems of gulls upon a Cornish shore.

‘Where have all the seagulls gone?’

‘Where have all the seagulls gone?’

Where have all the seagulls gone?

I walked through the town

whilst eating my fare,

there wasn’t a single seagull there!

I sat on the beach with my cool ‘99,

the sun shone brightly,

the sand was so fine;

but, ne’er did I hear the cry of:

‘Watch out, he’ll have your food!”

No, not a seagull to be seen,

how very rude.

I wish the seagulls would return,

I wish they would dive-bomb my snack;

oh, where, where are the seagulls?

I do hope they will soon venture back.

Where have all the seagulls gone?

I have a fresh pasty, a lolly, a scone;

I need the seagulls to take their share,

or my diet is ruined beyond repair.

Oh, where have all the seagulls gone?

©️graemesandford.com