A month from now, slow roads will heave,
under bulging holiday tyres,
fattened on smokey city air,
scrabbling with this decades designer sat nav,
telling you, how to turn right.
There's a pier car park,
where wilderness sleeps, on stilts,
deep in a salt-dog shore line.
Superman just fails to score,
in tin pan alley knock-em-down.
54321, sing the Manfreds, jammed freshly
between the deck board slime.
One crying child,
and a gang of pensioners
in Bogart coats, waltz summer off its stage.
Empty table tops, rain-levelled,
open their faces to the thick charcoal sky.
A valiant of England choirs,
multi-brand their accents, put on, put off,
into every starving colour
in the starving queue, for miraculous cod.
Deck chairs fold up money,
money folds up you.
Everyone in their wise selves,
drinking dry the beers of the land.
As whipping winds,
surf Butlins graveyard,
its tombstone plastic pool chairs,
towel less, even for Germans.
You know, Jerry, even though I have never been to England, let alone go on holiday there, I was transported with great clarity to this holiday destination with you... This is a great free-verse. 'Empty table tops, rain-levelled, / open their faces to the thick charcoal sky.' He he... great tongue-in-cheek humour here, friend (from what I see on Sky News there, your summer has worse weather than our winter here in the Southern Hemisphere!) LOL! I thoroughly enjoyed this... considering the fact that Free Verse isn't always my cuppa tea! ? Sunshine from South Africa!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a really interesting poem, not least because it preserves in time the latest gadgets (a la Sat Nav) and tells everyone in no uncertain terms that our summer this year was and is crap! Aside from that there are some great images, love the 'pier in it's salt-dog shores' and the 'miraculous cod'. Brilliant. HG: -) xx