April Pome Competition

Thank you Christopher for this entirely unexpected honour.

I would like to thank so many people for making this possible, including my parents, my grandparents and my long term partner, my laptop. Of course I must include his parents, especially his father, Charles Babbage (even though the DNA tests have proved rather inconclusive so far) but without whom none of this would have been possible.

So to a new lyrical challenge.
Because I live by it, worked on it and look at it every day it is,
“The Sea”

Could be anything in it, on it or around it. Anything that floats in it or anything that doesn’t. Could also include any plaice near it, so cast your doubts aside one and all and have a go, just for the halibut.

As required by any one of innumerable EU regulations entries are best before 01/05/2015.

18 thoughts on “April Pome Competition”

  1. Ah well! Yes I was and there was a branch called sea scouts. And the gang show couldn’t have sung: ‘….riding along on the back of a bus…..’ OK maybe. 😃

  2. A bit off topic, JL, but I do enjoy the pieces you and Jazz write about your time at sea.

  3. Or how about

    Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
    Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
    With a cargo of ivory,
    And apes and peacocks,
    Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

    Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
    Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
    With a cargo of diamonds,
    Emeralds, amethysts,
    Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

    Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
    Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
    With a cargo of Tyne coal,
    Road-rails, pig-lead,
    Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

    John Masefield

    I particularly love the last stanza.

  4. Sea Fever
    By John Masefield

    I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

    And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

    And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

    And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

    I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

    Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

    And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

    And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

    I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

    To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

    And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

    And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

  5. I like the Spike Milligan version

    I must go down to the sea again,
    The lonely sea and the sky.
    I left my sock and pants down there
    I wonder if they’re dry?

  6. Oops, I had this on my list but a bit of a rush. Thank you for the reminder. Here’s my entry:


    Sable sand and salty breezes
    A summer scene which gently teases.
    Memories of times long gone
    A scorching sun which always shone.
    Gentle slope and then the sea-
    What utter bliss this all should be!

    But no, it’s not, as I sit huddled
    Are my memories really muddled?
    Did I dream those weeks we lazed
    Across this paradise we gazed?
    It’s freezing cold, about to pour
    The waves are crashing with a roar.

    It never rained beside the sea
    It’s global warming – has to be.
    The summer hols were always hot
    The seaside was the perfect spot.
    The wind is howling, quite a storm
    It’s hardly even barely warm!

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