BOARDWALK HANGINGS... My poem about eating at Dubai's Creek in 2005, where restaurant umbrellas had been tied to poles for the evening...)

 Boardwalk Hangings…

(Dubai Creek restaurant, 2005…)

Waiters oozed round tables

Lit low by shapely lamps,

Bearing menus sandwiched between

Wooden grilles

Or gates,

 Balancing grills

For one’s plates,

On a gentle terrace

Above an evening Creek,

Where garish lights

On moored dhows

Reflected

Like they were stacked

Beneath cooling, deep waters.

Occasional abras sneaked past,

With Captains’ Cabins

Bearing a remarkable resemblance

To Ford Anglia seats

With stretch-covers…

Yet the unsubtle warnings

For illegal activities

Were stark

In the dark

Surroundings…

Umbrellas bound tightly,

From poles were strung

Like beheaded bodies, unsightly

But helplessly hung:

Crucified, 

Disarmed,

Mummified,

Embalmed;

A ghoulish

Morbidity

In a stable

Instability…

Pete Ray

(Abras are small passenger boats...)

Restaurant umbrellas had been tied to their poles like beheaded criminals. 

An unsettling outlook for eating, carrying a dire 

warning…

Only my imagination & dark humour, however!

Creekside, Dubai, 2005…

BURJ AL ARAB... My poem about the hotel, during visits to Dubai in 2005 & 2007...

 Burj Al Arab…

(Dubai 2005 & 2007…)

Changed colour 

Like a chameleon,

Perched precariously

Like a robust wood pigeon.

Rose vertically

Like the stance of a meerkat,

Hunched motionless

Like a cornered sewer rat.

Forced erect

Like a shark’s dorsal fin,

Looking remarkably 

Like a pregnant penguin…

Pete Ray

This remarkable hotel was a highlight of my visits to 

Dubai in 2005 & 2007. 

It was built on a causeway out into the sea and was clearly extremely expensive to stay at. 

It was a spectacular feature on the Dubai skyline…. 

I was fortunate enough to take afternoon tea there in 2007...

BIDFORD-ON-AVON, 31ST MARCH 2025... (Featuring a Great Crested Grebe, a Song Thrush, a flying Grey Heron & a soaring Buzzard...)

 

THE LION & MOUSEHOLE... (My poem about a rock on Mousehole's beach which reminded me of the old TV puppet, Lenny the Lion...)

 The Lion & Mousehole…

It was surely Lenny the Lion.

There, on Mousehole’s rock strewn beach.

Terry Hall’s arm was missing, naturally,

Which would into his puppet’s innards stretch and reach…

It was tough to decide who was in control

There, on vintage children’s television,

For the limp pawing lion was gaily vocal

And the ventriloquist dumbly accepted the derision…

It was Lenny the Lion’s head.

There, with an expression plainly indignant,

Its features hewn and weathered from solid stone

But the hole for Terry’s arm lay redundant…

Pete Ray

I always wondered what had happened to the annoying 

puppet Lenny the Lion and there he was… 

No waxwork, merely a stone effigy of his enormous head at Mousehole, Cornwall… 

GONE DAYS, LEFT TO RIGHT... (My new poem inspired by Victoria Obolensky's painting...)

 Gone Days, Left To Right…

(Inspired by Victoria Obolensky’s painting…)

Well trained in reading left to right whilst bearing days gone by in mind, 

Shadowy thoughts begin to infiltrate, which itchy typing fingers hurry to express.

Calm waters, slightly ruffled, yet not particularly unkind

Lie beneath a darker, shaded place, where I can only read distress.

White winged clouds shift with awesome power across stormy squalls,  

The gloom of tension and strife overridden by a rush of attempted assurance

From the strain of pain and anxiety which constantly stalls

The peace of mind. Yet hope’s amber glimmer above offers a gleam of reassurance… 

Pete Ray

29th March 2025…  

Life’s complicated rush, encapsulated for me, at least, by a thrilling painting…