Poets for September: Andy Jenkins, Ian Colville, Ian Stewart Black, Karen Hancock, Ilona Martonfi
I TOOK THE BUS TO SOUTHPORT
I took the bus to Southport yesterday,
and hoped that I would see you on the way.
I didn’t, so I walked along the sands,
and made pretend that we were holding hands,
and listening to the sighing of the sea.
But in the end I could not disagree,
this unrequited love was not for me,
and took the bus back home in time for tea.
Alas my heart had not yet understood
that once a heart is stung, it’s stung for good,
and nothing one could ever do or say,
could ever wash the way I felt away.
In the end there can be no denying,
it wasn’t just the sea I once heard sighing.
Not seen, nor heard, nor even felt,
deep within us all it lies;
nought at first but given time,
with every evil done, or seen
or told, it burrows deep
within the flesh of each
immortal soul until,
if left unchecked,
it has devoured all,
and leaves behind
a dry and empty plain,
blind to love and
deaf to mercy’s plea;
an emptiness where once
there ebbed and flowed
the tide of pure humanity.