Wednesday, 23 April 2025

NEWLYN HARBOUR, DECEMBER 2006... (My poem about the Cornish fishing town as it appeared nearly 19 years ago...)

 Newlyn Harbour, December 2006…



A plethora of masts and winches,

Cables and pulleys and flags

Flailing in the stiff breeze.

A spattering of vessels and nets,

Ropes and lanterns and names

Painted to run the gauntlet of heavy seas.


A conglomeration of rows and lines,

Rust and debris and desertion

Resulting from maritime neglect.

An anchoring of hulks and wracks,

Trawlers and drifters and re-caulked

Fishing boats, all but wrecked.


A trail of chains and tyres,

Gulls and turnstones and baskets

Redundant on the abandoned quay.

A silence of men and engines,

Iron and flotsam and jetsam

Deposited, corroding heedlessly….


Pete Ray



Newlyn’s quiet December harbour, December 2006. 


A fascinating place. 


So many messy vessels, cast-aside objects and 

fluttering flags. 


A strangely pleasant, if spooky feel about the place…










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