Runaway (Poem)

Photo by Adrianna Calvo on Pexels.com

Footprints along the strand
stretching off to nowhere

A beach all my own
save for curious gulls

eyeing from Hesperides’ skies.
Kernow was never so lush

or windswept; are they bells
pealing on the breeze, like

lost Lyonesse beckoning
to this broken soul?

Maybe heartless time is melting,
melding; I run and run

into the gelid ocean, the two
once twain — now consumed

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Haiku: Looking South

Ripples like wet skin

Midday spangles looking south

Waders distant calls

Haiku and copyright Francis Barker 2020

End of the Holiday Season at Hunstanton, West Norfolk

The crumbling two tone cliffs at Hunstanton, looking north.
The lovely beach at Old Hunstanton, just north of ‘new’ Hunstanton.
Looking south at Old Hunstanton
Promenading at Hunstanton.

*Autumn is here, so let’s stay on top of things.

All photographs copyright Francis Barker 2020.

Hunstanton Seaside Town, Norfolk

Photo copyright Francis Barker 2020

Hunstanton is one of the better seaside towns of Norfolk, in East Anglia, England.

With travel restrictions in place for most of the year, plus a curtailed holiday season, many Brits have been making the most of their own backyard, including traditional the traditional seaside.

Almost unique, the resort faces west, so is known for its spectacular sunsets. Not too hi-brow, it has a certain old world charm, with a sense of lived-in Victoriana, especially towards the end of the holiday season.

Definitely worth a visit in these strange and difficult times.

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

Haiku: A Place in the World

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Footprints in the sand
Histories are re-written
Where do we fit in?

Copyright Francis Barker 2020

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Poem: A Walk by the Sea

a walk by the sea

Without too much thought I took
to the beach,
followed the white lines of
breakers
leading me due north along that
fractured shore.

in no time at all the beach huts were
behind me,
removed by dunes and blurring
summer haze.

then suddenly
she was there
right in front of me, as if she’d
dropped
right out of the ether.

she was squatting down,
blonde haired and
quite young,
her blue-green dress hitched up a touch
showing small bare feet
half buried,
where the dry white sand
gave way to shingle.

I stopped
said hi
but she didn’t even look!
staring into that wide expanse
she could see
clear across the ocean.

looking down I admired her
gold-embroidered dress,
the delicate amber jewellery on
slim fingers,
her long hair matted by
the keen breeze.

then she looked up,
her eyes like cyan gems
and pointed to herself–
‘Elfhild’ I thought she said
sounding sort of German
or Dutch or maybe something
in between
but I didn’t speak a word.

not then.

she didn’t seem lost or in any distress
so I moved on,
giving her a faint wave,
after all, what business was it
of mine?
I carried on steadily
maybe half a mile or so,
felt the wind move round
south to south east.
I could’ve done with a jumper so I
turned back,
got up quite a pace in the end.
frankly I wanted to return
to see if she was alright –
but I saw only footprints
where she had been, where the shingle
gave way to sand.

walking to the shoreline something
caught my eye, a piece of amber
wet and shining.
I picked it up, held it
to the light
and smiled, looking out
to where the waves
were rolling in by the edge of
that German sea

poem and image © copyright Dave Barker 2020

Haiku: Holidays!

Untitled-1
Haiku copyright Francis Barker 2020  Photo by Sean O.

Haiku: Footprints

photo of woman walking barefoot on seashore
Photo by Akshaya Premjith on Pexels.com

Footprints in the sand
Who is it walking with us?
The waves wash away

copyright Francis Barker 2020

Days of Innocence and Eternity

beach

Summer is not far away, fickle though it may be in England’s northerly reaches.

To us as children the good days were glorious; down at the beach the sun was our friend, the sea and sand our playmates through the days which would last forever. Eternity was within our reach – then.

In reality nothing much has changed, only our perception of reality.

cropped-beachheader1.jpg

paintings by Francis Barker

Poem: Summer Coming In

spring summer

Spring finally comes, like your
warm breath on my
desiccate skin. So then
sing to me of careless summers,
your smile, where
love begins

© copyright David F. Barker 2013

Poem: ‘Turning’

foam

Is there a point where the tide
stops,
a moment that I could see, or touch?
I’ve been looking
at tables giving times, exact
minutes of apogee, and it was
just here I’m sure,
right here,
where I pointed
and watched
and saw nothing, except
the foam stretch ahead of me
like phantom silk, all
along the buff triassic sand, as far
as I could see or walk.
“That’s where the waves
stop,” you said, “where the tide
turns back to the sea – and me.”

image and poem © copyright David F. Barker