15 December 2012


Winchelsea Beach - Sussex

Of Memory

Swirling mist 
Or steam rising. 
Images blinking incoherently. 
Snatches of lines once said - 
Chronological tombola - 
The fruits of growing older. 
I saw a face, 
I heard a voice... 

They well up 
From benighted depths 
Far below -
Swirling, spinning - 
People you used to know, 
Sights once seen, 
Places once been – 

Is all. 
What’s saved 
And what is lost - 
You never get to choose 
Or count the cost 
Of the life you’ve lived 
Defined by 
Memory’s markers - 
Like ancient groynes 
In the tide-washed sands 
Of time.


  1. I liked this very much. I was glad I knew what groynes were, though, since that was a fairly central image. We don't have them in eNZed.

    You have a frequent (icon in the visual arts) motif? of regret and might-have-been-ness. It's interesting.

  2. KATHERINE I think that icon/motif is part of the human condition. There may be bluster, ego and sheen but scrape the surface and I think that this is what you will invariably find in larger or lesser degree. I really appreciate the fact that you have given my poems thoughtful consideration. It's encouraging.


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