One Poem by Mark Wyatt

Beach

I suppose I dozed on and off
for centuries, lulled by
the melodies of the sea,
entertained by the
stories of sea-
shells, with
flotsam to
read. Awake
now most of
the night and
day, I’m sunny
smiles personified
making all of them
happy; the grannies
in deck-chairs, their
knitting needles flicking
in and out like waves, infant-
like crustaceans busy in the sand
around their feet, the teenagers,
their glistening shapes writhing together
under a benevolent, seen-it-all-before, moon,
lonely dog-walkers humming love songs to themselves
at low tide, that are caught by the wind in snatches.

 

Mark Wyatt has lived mostly overseas, teaching English in Thailand, Nepal, Oman and the UAE. His pattern poems have appeared in Ambit, ELTED, Poetry Nottingham, Slow Dancer and an Arts Council anthology published by Quartet, while other work has appeared in New Statesman, Poetry Durham, Poetry London and The Rialto.

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