Monday 29 June 2020
REMUS, LANGUISHING AT BRANCASTER STAITHE...
Remus, Languishing…
Languishing, lingering and leprous,
Remus was licked of its livery by a lurid
North Sea as it lolled and leaned
Upon Brancaster Staithe.
And it loitered…
Tarred, tarnished and toiling,
F7 was tormented in its turmoil by a tidal
North Sea as it tilted and tossed
Upon Brancaster Staithe.
And it teetered…
Beached, bled and baulked,
Remus F7, was battered at its berth by a belligerent
North Sea as it bothered and bobbed
Upon Brancaster Staithe.
And it blundered…
A shell, a hulk, an empty vessel encumbered,
The trawler was devoid of life, or soul;
At anchor, tied fast, its days were numbered,
To shoals of sprats a ghost boat, a maritime ghoul…
Pete Ray
June 2020
My images of Remus (registered F7 in Faversham as a trawler) were taken in 2012.
It was built along with sister vessels Romulus (F6) and Faustulus (F21) in the 1950s in Whitstable by RJ Perkins for the Leggatt family who generally fished for sprats.
It lay doomed on Brancaster Staithe in 2012, either deteriorating in the tidal waters or lying helpless like a marooned World War tank in the considerable low-tide mud…
I loved the boat…
Derek Cox’s picture of Remus in acrylic ink is a fine memorial…
More images from the Staithe appear below...
Sunday 28 June 2020
LONG HAIRED PIG: A NEW POEM...
Long Haired Pig…
It really looked like it might be a guard dog
Resting, its back to me, a long haired Alsatian,
Perhaps;
Partly in shade, partly in parching sunlight
It remained motionless,
Until I noticed the ears, or
Flaps
And then it became clear that this was a basking,
Sprawling, luxuriating variety of reddish, woolly pig,
Cooling and drooling in a small watery hole, or bog…
It really looked like it might not have shifted
For quite some time, this long haired porker,
Asleep;
Partly visible, partly submerged in murky slime
It reposed, oblivious,
Until it grunted, contentedly and
Deep,
But then it became clear that this slumbering,
Stinking, wallowing variety of Mangalitsa pig,
Lay amongst a myriad insects, dancing as if sifted…
Pete Ray
June 2020
Bourton (not Boarton)-on-the-Water…
Liked this pig a lot…
Kind of opened an eye to register my presence…
And grunted gently, as the vile insects bounced up and down over the stinking water and mud of this makeshift bed…
Saturday 27 June 2020
SOAR MILL COVE, DEVON...
Soar Mill Cove
Shivers of shallow drained water
Hurrying, twirling, declining,
Bolstering a stream, rushing
Headlong into the Cove,
Tearing at compacted sand,
Widening its channel, its core,
Eddying, swirling and gushing
At an ebbing tide;
Waves slashing, stumbling and pushing
At rocky outcrops,
Harnessing the fresh surge,
Teasing it with salt, tainting
The land’s flurry and painting
A weathering, unsettling furore…
Pete Ray
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