Last week, I was talking to someone about how some poems come easy, and others take a while to work on and polish up, and I mentioned this poem to them at the time, so here it is.
This poem, Gull Gyre, was remarkably easy to write, although I did spend time thinking it through beforehand.
Driving to the garden centre one day, maybe a couple of weeks ago, I saw a load of gulls circling in the air, which made me think of them as a gyre.
As they span and wheeled, I could hear them calling, and began creating words that suited the chaos and the cacophony of the scene.
Once I had a few seeds of an idea, I was able to write this out really quite easily once I got home
In contrast, sometimes they don’t come so easy, and some poor poems even end up abandoned, poor souls – too difficult!
I hope you enjoy.
Seagulls gyre – wocker-challing and crocker-calling,
skiffer-wheeling, wind-kiting and hoarse-calling
keer-wails into a bluster-buffet, ear-sharked, eye-grit gale,
blowing smithereens out of the sea wall,
the surf and the pebbles that make up the beach,
grind-clockering and ratter-schacketling back and forth,
to and fro in weather’s storm-force mayhem.
In the air gulls cry caw once more,
twitching wings to soar, scud and chaos-wheel
in their noise-gyre – set against dim clouds
as sun sinks and steam rises from my mug,
creating window fog, warm and safe in my café by the sea.