Tag Archives: Kernow

Whilst leaning against a 7-bar gate

I look over

(for I am tall enough)

the gate,

and see what there is beyond:

fields, distant woods, lone trees,

cloud-occluded skies;

a part of South East Cornwall

that has melded with my heart;

I am happy to have come here;

and I love the silent Sun

that beams down upon

these little acres.

Looe Island Haiku

This is Looe Island,

it looks like a schoolboy’s cap,

and the gulls live there.

The Tale of a Seagull Called Flap. (Revisited)

This is the ongoing tale

of a seagull called Flap;

not a chip-stealing seagull,

but a nice kind of chap –

.

here’s the thing…

Flap, only has one wing.

.

He was born that way,

many years ago,

so a one-wingéd life

is all he does know;

.

and, ‘Yes!’ I’ll answer,

before you do ask;

Flap ‘can’ fly,

but it’s a bit of a task;

he needs a good run up,

and a following breeze;

there must be a springboard,

to flex out his knees;

and when he is airborne,

by leaving the ground,

he doesn’t fly far,

just around…

and around…

and around.

.

However, Flap is of being an inhabitant of Looe,

as many fine seagulls are wont to do –

East? West?

(East is better, but West is best –

that should keep all the Looevians happy,

for they think that their side of the river

is the only side that is truly blessed).

.

Flap’s home should have been Looe Island;

where, at night, most other gulls went;

but, being unable to fly there,

walking the quayside was how he spent

his time, eating a crumb or a stale bit of crust; which was sufficient,

if rarely sublime;

but, needs must.

.

He did get to the island once in a while;

(as the crow flies it was less than a mile)

and he could cross the short distance from Hannafore on a very low tide;

or wait for the offer of a ferry-boat ride;

but, then, being stuck on the island

was also a pain;

for once he had got there…

getting back again!

.

Flap was a bit of a loner;

though he did make friends with a chip-shop owner,

who put a few tid-bits his way once in a while;

which treats Flap loved,

it caused him to smile

at the kindness of strangers,

of those with a soul;

for, not everyone hated seagulls;

but, Flap still felt a hole.

.

Flap wished for a mate,

a gentle gull to call his own;

not just for a date,

but for a family to raise,

on their island home…

and then in walked Phlip

a gull just like Flap,

one-wingéd,

what on Earth are the chances

of a thing happening like that?

.

Phlip was a pretty Polperro gull,

that had travelled to Looe for a change;

the posh people of Polperro

had pitied poor Phlip,

but told her that she looked, ‘much too strange’;

and, so, she had headed east;

east to find a mate;

and the day that she arrived in Looe

her life was to change,

it truly was an auspicious date.

.

Flap and Phlip

when eyes did meet

they knew they’d met the one;

and Phlip and Flap

did dance on feet

in the shimmering rays of the setting Looe sun.

.

But, how to get to the island?

.

Flap had a left wing;

Phlip has a right;

by holding close together,

together…

they took flight.

.

And now they live upon Looe Island,

where they have made themselves a nest;

and do they have plans for babies?

well, I think you can guess the rest.

.

Awenek Poem

Dydh da!

Meurastahwi.

Marthys!

Ny wonn vy ‘awenek’

Well, anyway, I’ve used it in a poem;

out of context – of course –

and ‘margh’ is Cornish for horse

which gives the rhyme

to make this a poem,

and just in time.

Splann!

©️graemesandford.com

Written on the seafront of a very wet Looe on a Tuesday Afternoon in May.

The waves waved;

the gulls bemoaned the lack of footfall;

and the Heavens opined about the best place

for the rain to pall;

whilst I watched a moistened few of God’s more resilient critters walk limply by.

.

Where is the Summer Sun?

Where the endless day which run

into each other with a freeness of spirit?

Where the bucket & spade brigade?

.

Stuck in a cosy caravan playing cards for matches?

Driving further and further along the coast

searching for oases,

of which, today, there are none?

Or huddled under an awning,

wishing the morning, afternoon, and evening

could be like those of their distant childhood visits?

.

An empty promenade, though washed clean, is not the stuff of picture postcards.

.

But, I ‘do’ like to stroll along

the prom, prom, prom,

writing the words that,

like the seaweed upon the beach,

have sullied this blank page.

‘Shakespeare in Looe.’ (Reposted upon the Bard’s 457th Birthday)

‘Shakespeare in Looe.’

The Bard did advance from Liskeard

in a sort of 9-days dance – a la Will Kemp – stopping off upon occasion to compare things to other things.

Nowadays, he would have caught the train; but, then, he preferred to walk upon his ‘legges two’

‘Shall I compare thee to a five-bar gate?

Which is a useful item, at any rate.’

and the like.

With him was his trusty sidekick, Ben – a comedy duo they claimed to be, that went under the name of ‘Will & Ben: Renaissance Men.

‘I say, I say, I say’, quothed Will, ‘Is this a dagger that I see before me?’

‘No.’ answered Ben, ‘ ‘tis The Globe.’

‘ ‘The’ Globe?’ queriéd Will, ‘My wooden O?’

‘No.’ answered Ben, again, ‘ ‘tis just a public house going by the name of…‘ (SFX dramatic chords)

‘… The Globe.’

Ah, well, all’s ale that ends, well, you know what I mean, dear Ben.’

‘More than most; but, all in that only a little, my liege, my fool.’

‘Don’t knock what thou doesn’t understand, Ben.’

‘Knock? Knock? Spake thus Ben, bemusédly.

‘Who’s there?’ responded Will.

‘Ben, my Lord-loon, like as well you know it.

‘Ben, my Lord-loon who?’ asked Will.

‘Jonson! How many times must I remind you?

‘Thrice a hundred, more if there is a Tuesday in the week.’

And thus, with much ado, they arrived in Looe.

As I was (not) going to St. Ives

As I was (not)

going to St. Ives,

I thought I’d think upon my many lives;

the one where I was just a newt;

that season hanging as a fruit;

the lifetime spent waiting for Godot’s what;

the shortest day, as a Mayfly,

that I’d almost forgot;

the long half-of-an-hour trying vainly to survive;

or the hundred and twenty short years when Moses was alive;

and afternoons drinking gaily with my pals;

or night-time flights with a school of owls;

the briefest tenure as a living thing;

or a long, long, life sowing, then harvesting,

then sowing and harvesting,

as my father and son, wife and daughter,

had, and have, for centuries, done.

Having thought upon my many lives,

I then thought about all the times,

I had actually gone

to St. Ives.

TBC

Looe Paper

We need Looe Paper,

we need it now

as we all must have

rolls to play;

cast us, somehow;

roll out the barrel,

(without Colin Farrell –

he’d just act up –

as actors do tend to do)

And the headline for today –

which is garish – does say,

‘We need Looe Paper!

Yes, we do!

Because we all need something

to read on the Looe!’

An Wedhen (The tree)

edhen

yn

an wedhen.

Looe 3007

In a thousand years from now

will things be just the same,

when they’ve changed so much in a hundred?

And, would we be able to claim

knowledge of a place

where we thundered in youth

and withered in age,

when the world spins ever quicker,

just to reach a final stage?

We walk these streets

as those before,

and look out to sea

from that same shore;

but, tomorrow is another day,

what happens then…

well, who can say?