Tag Archives: #Seagulls

The gulls did gimbal and gyre

The gulls did gimbal and gyre,

ever higher and higher;

with sky-flight’s desire

beating strong in their hearts.

Where?

Where are the seagulls?

I saw them

up

in the sky

swooping

flying so gracefully by

coming in close

and then climbing so high

where are the seagulls

that I photographed…

…was there

only

sky?

©️graemesandford.com

‘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

C. Gull

A seaside sentinel,

with sand-filled vistas,

water-based horizons,

and snack-laden tourists,

has noticed a change:

fewer people,

so, less of a chance for a highwayman

to relieve a punter of their valuables;

and the people look worried,

harried and hurried,

seeking isolation from each other –

what is the bother?

And, now, more and more hungry gulls

are chasing less and less;

I confess that humans confuse me;

there is also less mess

upon the floor,

we could do with a return to the normal,

random, behaviour,

things are too formal,

it all seems rather strange –

why did things change?

A seagull perched…

A seagull perched

on a lofty crag

eyed the chips

in a paper bag;

should he make

the attempt and swoop

upon a soul

carry off a coup

with such aplomb

to dare to dive

and strafe, dive bomb,

the unsuspecting one.

Anyway,

even if the mission failed,

the expedition would be fun.

“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?

An Expectation of Seagulls

The seagulls clamoured for more;

the sand upon dry land

was upon the shore,

to be sure;

but soon the tide would turn,

and return;

and, upon its return,

the sand would sink below the sea,

and seagulls, once again,

would yearn

for fish

for their tea.

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.