Summer Holidays Poem by Tony Cooney

I'm walking barefoot among the chip bags, coke cans and discarded food.

The children all seem happy and in a holiday mood.

Older overdressed couples, engaged in in-depth ignorance.

Watch while their grandkids all swim out to sea in raggy underpants.

Shops are selling fish and chips on a Sunday and each one has a queue.

Where fat ladies stand dressed in leggings, black bras and a tattoo.
Their kids all have skinheads and want ice cream and lemonades.
Then they rush across the busy road towards the seedy loud arcades.
A noisy gang are singing, dressed in unfavourable football tops.

Now its kicking off so early outside the pubs and kebab shops.

The sea front is fluctuating and the only things standing still.

Are a hot and tired Pitbull terrier and the turbines on the hill.

Dark dirty clouds appear and the sands prepare for rain.

Soon the town is deserted and the people all go home again.

They will all be back tomorrow when the town has been swept clean.

With their lager cans, these sun tan fans, covered in fake sun tan cream.