h20

A poem about water.

I see myself as a mersey poet,

born within the sound of tugs

and the boom of fog horns 

in autumn mists,

born between the diesel smells

of Lairds and unhumped Cammels

fighting with the lingerings

of lairages and tanyards.

I see myself as a mersey poet,

A legacy of Roger and the scaffolding he grew,

from summers with Monika,

all the way to the BBC, he

alongside Brian, alongside Adrian

spoke of many of the things i felt,

with accents similar to mine

in rhymes that caught my full attention.

I see myself as a mersey poet,

full of the gotham skyline

and the softening of syllables.

Full of the memories of the Mountwood

which Marsden made immortal…

‘Ferry, cross the Mersey, cos this lands the place i love

And here i’ll stay.

But i didnt stay, i moved on.

I see myself as mersey poet,

who left and took the waters somewhere else,

from downtown to upstream and the catchment of the Cain.

A place where rain falls abundant

into reservoirs of respite,

where the gatherings of agua

become potable and potent.

Efyrnwy, the origin of cups of tea

and toilet flush whose purity 

is carried to the mersey folks

along a pipe through gravity

and filtered by the straining tower whose gothic power

stands elegant and

testament to time.

I see myself as a mersey poet,

reflected in the consecrated drops of holy water

which baptised my infant head from sins imagined by their creed.

Reflected in the shimmerings of light

which seem to dance upon the surface

of the streams, becoming rivers in our dreams.

Reflected in the strength of fragile ice

where lovers skate 

and dangers wait to hostage fate for eco-times and warming crimes.

Reflected in the fears of mothers tears

which salty wash the just bcos we came along and got it wrong.

Reflected in the tides of ebb and flow

in H2O which passes through

our daily news of sewage spilt in dirty silt

Reflected in the waves which carry hope 

towards the shore

on tides which ride the rough expanse creating chance for us to change.

Reflected in the puddles

where the sparrow quenches thirst

and in the bursting drops which fall upon the deserts arid wait.

In the straits of hormuz, in the wide sargasso sea

In the half empty bottle, In the ocean wild and free.

I see myself as a mersey poet,

whose life began 

as waters broke,

who took a breath 

in stories spoke,

began to paddle in the madness

and to float within the flow.

I see myself as i saw myself

ever constant, ever changing

finding form and rearranging.

Just like water

I am duxicus

In flux.