15 September 2016

Poem

The Furthest Man

It is quiet here
Out on the edge
Waiting for the tide to turn
Waiting for the sea
To envelop me.

Why do these sand flats ripple?
Why does the sinking sun
Glisten like that?
I cannot turn my head away
But I have no answer.

Like the other ninety nine
The ones who stand behind
I'm iron-hearted
Thus when the sea returns
I do not tremble.

You might say I am brave
Resolute in fact
Looking ever westwards
Trying to see
Another place
Where truth resides.

But I am just
The furthest man
Waiting for the tide to turn
Waiting for the sea
That's all folks
That's all.

22 comments:

  1. A very appropriate (and, for me, rather moving) poem and very evocative of what the sculptures represent - or appear to represent.

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    1. I am so pleased that this poem resonated for you Graham.

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  2. When I went to Crosby Beach, I too found myself wondering what it would be like to be that farthest statue. It's amazing how far out they go! I like the sense of steadfastness in the face of nature that your poem conveys.

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    1. Steadfastness - yes that is the right word Steve.

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  3. Crosby beach is quite magical

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    1. "Another Place" has made it so.

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  4. So you did make it to the Gormley statues. I'm waiting for a photo of a red squirrel next!

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    1. I took a dozen of those up at Formby but as I snapped they darted away. Damned things! Why can't they pose for a while like grey squirrels?

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  5. It's on my places-to-visit list now. Very magical! ( Oh, btw, a blog in German about genealogy)

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    1. Okay Kaki. Best wishes with your genealogy blog. If you ever go to Crosby Beach near Liverpool, remember to check out tide times beforehand. Best to go there at low tide I think.

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  6. They really are most imp0ressive aren't they? As is the Angel of the North - have you seen that?

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    1. I have only seen it from a passing road. I have not stopped and walked up to it.

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  7. A lovely poem, YP. We scattered Hugh's ashes there.

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    1. Perhaps Hugh was "the furthest man" Jenny. Seven years have gone by now.

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  8. And, as the sun will continue to set and to rise, the tide will turn when its turn comes...

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    1. That should have been a line or two in my poem.

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  9. Lovely. Fits the place beautifully. Those "men" are on my list to see when we visit next. I find them very grim and haunting.

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    1. At first they were all the same but now each one is different as the sea has affected them. If you get to Crosby try to see them at low tide and choose appropriate footwear, go barefoot or go piggyback on Tony.

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  10. Lovely photo and poem.

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    1. Your kind approval is appreciated Linda.

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  11. You say there is nothing in my stone heart to make me dance,
    That I have nothing to inspire my westward glance.

    But I do, Mr. Pudding, I do when I stare into the mist,
    For I am on the mythical bucket list
    Of a person you know well.

    Mama Thyme

    I will know her bright hair and wide smile
    When she approaches us ore' the miles.

    For then our stone hearts will soar into the mist to guide her to our shore.

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    1. A surprising and delightful response. I am glad that something sparked for you MB...

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