BODYBOARDING AT MAWGAN PORTH 2: A MISTY SUNDAY... OR WORLD WAR ONE...

Bodyboarding At Mawgan Porth 2: A Misty Sunday…

Board tucked beneath an arm,

The upper side blood red,
I stepped cautiously into the fog,

The eeriness and the demon mist,

Then walked towards an ocean’s roar and harm…

Shallow pools littered no man’s sand,

To trap the shell-dead;

I scouted mournfully into the fog,

The weariness and the demon murk,

Then crept nearer to the tide’s lines on land…

Surf scattered in its tremor,

Its spite thrashing out dread;

I yelled excitedly into the fog,

The isolation and the demon mire,

Then thrilled at my ride’s speed and vigour…

Stretcher tucked beneath an arm,

Its canvas blood red,

I stepped cautiously into the fug,

The smoke and the demon mist,

Then walked towards a war’s roar and harm…

Shell-holes littered no man’s land,

Depths for the dead;

I scouted ruefully into the fug,

The grime and the demon murk,

Then crept nearer the enemy lines to stand…

Souls scattered in squalor,

Their stink sickening with dread;

I screamed desperately into the fug,

The desolation and the demon mire,

Then wept at a conflict’s misplaced valour… 

Pete Ray

February 2017

Mawgan Porth’s beach, foggy and desolate on Sunday afternoon, 19th February.

I walked on no man’s sand between isolated pools towards the sea’s roar but didn’t see the ocean until I was upon it and then I was suddenly aware of a World War 1 stretcher-bearer walking in no man’s land between isolated shell-holes into smoke, fog and death…

No bodyboard for him, merely a stretcher tucked beneath one weary arm…