Oh I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside
For the Unnecessary Line
There was violence on the promenade
Again, yesterday.
A video on social media
Shows slender youths parting
The Saturday afternoon hoard,
Black sleeved boys amongst bare legged girls
And men, and women, and children in T-shirts,
Boys with expressions concealed
Amidst an audience aghast,
Lithe bodies curved away
From the broad blades of machetes,
Swiping in clumsy arcs,
A parry,
A counter parry,
The motion rippling through the crowd
As the boys dance, stopping traffic.
“What is this country coming to?”
Says the first to weigh in.
Andy, invisible, weight indeterminable.
“It’s gangs coming up from London”
“Gangs coming up from London”
“London gangs coming
For a day out by the sea”
“And the police, they do nothing”
“The police can’t do anything”
“There’s no prosecutions,
They get away scot-free”
“Too much immigration”
“There’s no integration”
“I’m not racist but
They don’t look like me.”
“Hey, looking for five boss babes ready for unlimited earning potential, comment below”
“The government defunded youth clubs, you reap what you sow”
“It’s always been this way, remember Brighton, sixty-four”
“Kids these days think that they’re above the law”
“My nephew says he’s too scared not to carry a knife”
“The police won’t do anything ‘til someone’s lost their life.”
“I won’t go to the promenade now, even in broad daylight”
“They’re coming up from London, specifically to fight”.
At home, Andy wonders,
Opening another reel,
If he will ever get a steady job.
And in her kitchen
A woman fantasises
As she browses
And feels she knows there is more than this,
And on the street,
A man scans for signs of hate
He has read, and felt
But rarely, explicitly, heard,
And in his bedroom
A boy stays one minute longer
Behind his door, his curtain, his mother,
And folds hopelessness under
The high of being undefeated.
About the Creator
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The Cave Part 6
If you have ever heard a tale about yourself that you cannot remember and doubtless think is made up, you will know how I felt when Tharkin related all that the eagle had seen of me before my memories were scattered. Of far distances and traveling companions that I did not recall, camping out under the stars and making our way to the mountains with deliberate purpose. The great bird had lost contact with my party once we entered the forests, and the seven other members were not seen again by him or his brethren since.
By Jamye Sharp6 days ago in Chapters
Comments (7)
John said it all! Wonderful poem illustrating tension, observations, fear due to outside violent situations, and then… they are different, don’t look like me - must be them, not me. ❤️
Things are so scaryyyy 😭😭😭😭😭
I both admire and envy your art, Hannah. You capture so many things with a seeming glance, a whisp of dialogue or artful misdirection. You see more with your peripheral vision than I can with an unobstructed view. If you wrote a poem long enough, I could imagine you capturing the whole of the world. This is a truly powerful slice of the real. The final few lines are absolutely heartbreaking. Stunning entry to the challenge.
I wasn’t expecting this to be a dark poem, I wasn’t even in the loop here. But I think the fact that the subject here was so unexpected might have made your poetry even more impactful. When you come expecting some light hearted visit to the beach but witness not only violence but the way commentators use that to sow further hostilities… Wow. Glad you wrote this Hannah. Unfortunate that it’s so real.
Very powerful, Hannah. It’s too bad that the powerful hate mongers managed to split the societies in the issue of immigration. We will suffer the consequences for several generations.
This is so good, poetic yet truthful. I never made it to Southend in all my nearly 30 years of living in London, but I can picture this so clearly.
Ah. Britain. It can be quite shite often. Love this even if it's a horrible truth.