'PORTHLEVEN THREATENED': A POEM ABOUT CORNWALL...

Porthleven Threatened…

The swell swings, almost contained

By inner harbour’s angled walls:

Swaying, swooning, almost cascading,

Before spiralling, it breaks and falls…

The tumult teeters, nearly convulsed

In outer harbour’s insufficient trough:

Seething, swooping, almost escaping,

Before deflecting, sensuous to rough…

The sputum sails, barely floating.

Onto harbour’s business it rains:

Shifting, soaking, almost snowing,

Before settling its nauseous stains…

The torrent taunts, definitely threatening

Over harbour’s inanimate rock:

Screeching, screaming, almost twisting,

Before diving, cavorting to shock…

Pete Ray

(Bad weather, February 2007)

Dirty, oily foam was being whipped up by the raging sea at Porthleven and although the inner harbour was virtually protected, the outer harbour was like a witch’s brew, bubbling and wild…