The Brighton Poem - Work In Progress Poem by michael oliver

I live a prophecy
As homage to Mann
And Bogarde's smug smile

Same draped
The white shirt
The yellow tie
The sea blue
The white paper
Coloured pencil
Uncovered definition

Sea striped some light some dark
Sky stripes of cloud muddle perception
No Tadzio just man and sea
No Tadzio just sea and me
I lean on the green rail
My tailored jacket on my arm
Unsure of that water or land
The world stretched of free perplexity


The cool anatomy past and effortless
The memory of craft's man days
A single page on an opening
We both stand with eye contact

The image remains sure on recall
Fixed on the page by time
The place fixed by today's freedom
The sea by line advances recedes

The thin enticement of the strand
A strip of realism sans understanding
A cool texture of light
It is where to be sometime

The Brighton Poem - the second opening

My single pen lets it's ink
flow by my arm's forced ideas
the moment ad - libbed into words
From mute the roaring imperative writes

Standing facing the slip of ocean
Here we abide mute and shinig
Once drawn once written once spoken
Nodded to as this day's genesis

A single figure descends the ramp
Pebbles and sea ascend to greet
The core the life even ageing's
Beckoned line lies ahead with looks

Watched from this green rail above
I walk the short line undecided
The mouth dry a slight hunger
Unsated of some beckoned present realism

My simple figure climbs the ramp
remember pebbles and sea fall away
Arriving elsewhere with wished lost friends
clouds breeze sun mine to share