Poetry Forum

Flight from Aquitaine

I woke in the air of the antiseptic pine
in Aquitaine hard by the scouring sea,
at Arcachon, where the mussels lie
and the kelp and the wrack repent
under the drying sun by the shore,
and being France every palatable whelk
had scarcely an hour before its appointment
at lunch.

I went to bed in Middlesex near the roar
of the metropolitan line and not far off
the city shone in sodium orange light
under louring clouds down pressed
on endless rows of houses you get to see
in pretty patterns from the airplane.
Come global warming and bring salt water
to wash this toxic town away.

DG

DG

A subject with which most are familiar. Whenever I return to Manchester (from ANYWHERE) it's always the ugliness that strikes me first.

You swap from past to present tense in the first, but I only noticed on the third read, so (IMHO) it's no great detriment. The poem as a whole flowed well and did a great job of expressing the contrast. An amusing ending too.

I also thank you for adding two new words to my vocabulary.

Nice one.

Mick

I empathise with this greatly being a bit of a traveller. A lovely contrast between both stanzas, until the last line links back. But you know that! I liked it:)

Coming home overpowers the memories for a while doesn't it? I find it takes a while before I can start to enjoy them again.

This is very fine writing, DG.

I seem to get a similar feeling every time I come back from Cornwall. One day I'll stay there.

Lia

"Sodium orange light", very nice. A good contrast even though I would not totally agree with the last line's sentiments, perhaps echoing Betjeman's famous couplet. I have to disagree with Jester's comment too, do you not think that cities have their own lure? Manchester especially.

Ok Saul, cities might have their lure, but what about the surrounding suburbs? The money gets pumped into keeping cities clean and presentable to attract more money.

Citizen Smith.

Yup, it was Betch all right. This is work in progress and I think the B references will have to go! I live nearer the District line anyway...

DG

Maybe its the type of poems that I read but I had trouble with the first stanza. It seems like one incredibly long sentence, despite reading it over and over.


"...every palatable whelk
had scarcely an hour before its appointment
at lunch."

Great line!

The sentence in S1 is longer than I am in the habit of writing, but I chose to evoke the rhythm of the (little) surf on the beach. Well, anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Chortle...

DG.