OMENS
This October’s high water has almost reached
the top of the sea wall, its lapping
silenced by two oafish nabobs on jet skis –
iconoclasts shattering the seascape
of the Straits. Rain clouds along the mainland
are lifting, greyness lightening, slowly
becoming white – revealing early Autumn’s
gradual alchemy. Two porpoises
surface briefly out in the deepest channel,
swimming, in the remnants of the Gulf Stream,
from Cardigan Bay to Liverpool Bay.
As the tide drains northwards over Lavan Sands
from the unexpected south a cold breeze blows.
A great crested grebe – a freshwater bird
only on sea coasts in winter – is fishing
among the moored cruisers, their pennants
tremulous in the wind.
John Williams
October 25, 2019The poem takes the reader’s eye through a seascape and records sights, sounds and textures. People are absent except for ‘oafish nabobs on jet skis…’, whose noisy intrusion silences the sea. We becomes aware of absent owners of moored cruisers, their pennants touched and brought to life by the wind. And, of course, there’s also the poet himself to explore tensions between the land and sea, and problematise the role of human beings in the natural world. The sea, land and poet are united by the cold wind ‘As the tide drains northwards over Lavan Sands…a cold wind blows.’ Creatures of air and sea, the grebe and the porpoises, bless us with a brief appearance, brevity contributing to the fleeting overlay, the timeless message of Autumn’s alchemy.
Alan Horne
October 29, 2019Thanks for causing me to look up the definition of ‘nabob’. Seems to be a Moghul official, and by extension someone who’d made a fortune with the East India Company. I see that people thought their wealth would corrupt parliament, so worth studying for contemporary relevance. But might a nabob also be someone with nay bobs? I quite like that idea too.
David Selzer
October 29, 2019The Hooray Henries referred to in the poem had far too many bobs!
Clive Watkins
November 9, 2019A subtly charged scene, David.