Construction…
‘The Mousehole’, as is, edges into the image,
Left of a line of cottages, mere dwellings then.
No car-park is adjacent, no vehicles vie for space,
No public lavatories lie nearby, no strict street signage,
No ‘Old Coastguard Hotel’, no shabby nor chic then.
No catering for visitors and of galleries no trace…
Beyond foreground homes all huddled to spy,
A block and tackle hints at a lifting of weights.
The partially built quay looks like a disaster has struck,
Yet lobster pots dry on the higher sea-wall wry,
A bunch of fishing vessels lies askew and waits,
Like woodlice hunched, before running amok…
Low-tide reveals its interminable
Rubble strewn,
Rocks hewn,
Stones thrown,
Sea-weed onto outcrops, seemingly sewn…
A line of background cottages, like a driftwood model
Braces itself
For a high tide,
A raging ocean’s ride,
To surge astride
A gash, an opening,
An entrance identified…
The construction of a Roman wall springs to mind
And the obstruction of warring ancient Picts;
Yet history to Mousehole has been remarkably kind,
Remaining mostly unchanged, through its own conflicts…
Pete Ray
November 2017
Looking at the superb old image, recently posted of the sea-walls under construction in Mousehole.
'The Mousehole' is a small gallery on the harbour...
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