Muddle Amongst The Rubble…
(Porthoustock, Cornwall, October 2009…)
A gloomy tide barely broke onto an uninviting shore,
Etched black by sucked residue
On sombre, hardened sand.
Humped tarmac road hardly split an unwelcoming beach,
Defiled repugnant by broken rubble
Across the flat, parking strand.
The solemn dereliction failed to enhance the cove’s
appeal,
Rising stark and of hideous design,
A thick, high, dank wall.
Scarred working quarry barely embellished the
overall vista,
Where oppressive, deposited boulders awaited
collection,
Around the tyre-hung harbour’s gall.
A random craft could not compensate for this
unsightly shore,
Creased and marked by winding gear
Upon pungent, crushed shell.
Patched, ill-repaired hovels crudely housed their rusting winches,
Slimy brown from persistent tides
And nestled beneath a high cliff’s cell.
The clustered hamlet failed to harmonise with its
monstrous seaboard,
Placid cottages standing firm and white
In a tight, pleasant huddle,
Contrasting furiously and incongruous with the nearby dilapidation.
And an old lifeboat house, turned village hall
Presided knowingly over Porthoustock’s heinous muddle…
Pete Ray
In fact, I really liked Porthoustock...
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