Fishtown

They’ve switched Santa off for the night,

leaving a muffled shape

among the harbour lights.

The pubs are mute:

press gangs no longer roam

through alleys bent

down to the water’s edge,

to hunt their own reflections.

King William’s statue reigns

where history was built

among the gulls and chip-papers;

A sailing trawler waits

for time’s return

beside its hi-tech cousins.

And sleeping townsfolk trust

morning will come

with long bright fingers

to undo the dark,

revealing a different ending.

News from Nowhere

Turning the page, one is

At ease, in a practical sense,

Preserving one’s distance on trains:

Reliving events as told,

If not as they really are,

In places we rarely go.

Words that don’t speak for us

But strangers everywhere;

Absorbed in our sanctuary

As the bus rumbles home:

Disaster and war,

The plight of stars,

Politicians whose power

Attracts,

While raising the tide of fear;

Each headline a litany

Of lives unshared,

Making awareness safe

For readers whose fate,

Despite all that's known,

Remains a mystery.