The Midland Hotel seen from The Station, 17th July 2023
Undermined by the dragging administration of life my
hope for profound or even coherent thought is
very low, despite the sun-setting drama approaching from
behind The Midland – that
white winged Deco
grace seagull curve with frosted atrium built
the year my dad was born: “extravagant
gesture of hope in an age of uncertainty” . . .
Thoughts I don’t want to examine pass
like road noise.
Canned Wuthering Heights from the pub’s outdoor speaker competes
with live R&B crossing Marine Road East,
and even the road signs now are either resisting
or taking on
– I can’t tell which.
If its good enough for you, then its good enough for me
runs another familiar ditty
waiting for magic hour, twilight
when the holiness of streetlights will elevate the sky.
Am I on something?
– nor would I wish to be.
An onshore breeze tangles the yard’s exhausted bunting
and the strung lights wait
– via Feelgood Dr. Wilko[i]
back and forth across the stage unstopping –
the Thames delta
– to me at least
Canvey is a place I’ve never knowingly been
but the overlap conjures significance
out of nothing
even though there may be none in the end
just an ebb of impressions to give a kind of freedom.
“Can you imagine Welles – Orson – in flowing robes
doing Falstaff on Morecambe beach?”
© Lawrence Freiesleben
NOTES Notes accessed on 24th August 2023
[i] Wilko being the stage name/nickname of John Andrew Wilkinson (12 July 1947 – 21 November 2022) en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilko_Johnson See Julian Temple’s wonderful film: Oil City Confidential (2009) imdb.com/title/tt1379092/
The Station, is pub ‘poem’ number 13 – the restriction or encouragement being that they have to be (mostly) written at the time (usually while alone) in pubs (almost always their gardens or yards) and incorporate whatever crosses the senses or mind. Although the idea of forcing myself to do this only occurred in March 2023, I’ve retrospectively counted three earlier ‘poems’) including The best thing about dreams is not having to tidy them up at the end: internationaltimes.it/the-best-thing-about-dreams-is-not-having-to-tidy-them-up-at-the-end/
In Memory of Nagasaki written in the garden of The Duke of Rothesay and used at the end of internationaltimes.it/in-remembrance-of-nagasaki-city-of-lancaster-august-9th-2023/ became number 14.
The Station pub whatpub.com/pubs/LUN/187/station-morecambe used to be a part of Morecambe’s main railway terminus – which greatly diminished, was shifted further away from the promenade in 1994 en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morecambe_railway_station