Auld Pier
A stan an face the smirr
that laces a northern wun,
an listen tae the call
o a gull as it hings
abin the auld pier.
Yince, a wid come doon here,
an watch the fishing boats
disgorge thir bluided crates
o cod an crab an tope,
thir takins fir the day.
A’d listen tae the cries
o gulls an fishermen,
The jingle o tall masts,
the cough o waitin trucks,
the slap o wave and rope.
The boats have gone lang since,
thir catch no worth the chase.
Auld ties hae broken doon,
an the loch his emptied
intae a changin sea.
I am a photographer/ poet from Dumfries in South West Scotland. I concentrate on minimalist images and prefer using an iPhone these days. As far as my writing is concerned, I usually write short poems (some in Scots dialect), hence my interest in haiku and related forms.
Hi Derek, not much chance of local fishing fleets coming back these days, what with conservation etc. Interestingly, some Scottish boats are heading off to base themselves in Ireland in order to simplify things a bit post-Brexit.
"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.
The passing of a way of life . . .
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Life’s tide at the ebb,
perhaps to return to the flood one day.
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Hi Derek, not much chance of local fishing fleets coming back these days, what with conservation etc. Interestingly, some Scottish boats are heading off to base themselves in Ireland in order to simplify things a bit post-Brexit.
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