When the love I lost had left me by that savage, sapphire sea.
And the turning tides had told me that no longer she loved me.
I went working, for the season, with Steve Sorrow: my best friend.
For I knew, that love and loving, had for me, now reached an end.
We went selling, up in Bispham, windows, worked for Big John Cash.
He was stout, but smart and savvy, wore a suit and black moustache.
Work was easy, Johnny told us, windows almost sell themselves.
Steve said: “I am not convinced, I’d rather we were stacking shelves.”
Double glazing wasn’t selling, Cash then had to let us go.
Steve said we should just go fishing, for some females; I said no.
Then I said, “there’s no one for me, living on this island earth.
Let’s go drinking, down at Jenk’s Bar, juicy jars of merry mirth.”
When we’d poured away our earnings, we relied on Christian Aid.
Stole the gifts from pouch and pocket. Then Steve said, “we’ve got it made!”
Steve then found us work as Key Men, for Joe Coral, on the Mile.
(Blackpool's empty, fake Arcadia, soulless stretch of gold so vile.)
Two months in, we both got fired: thieving money from machines;
we ‘fessed up and said, “we’re sorry, thieving’s kind of in our genes.”
Took a tram, at dawn, up North Shore, sun was rising o’er the sea.
I told Steve, “I have no future, if she won’t come back to me!”
And I fed him my suspicions all about her poisoned mind
made by darling dad and mummy, creatures who could be unkind.
He just nodded, ‘cause he knew me, knew that I was killing time
waiting on the god of battles to reverse this cosmic crime!
All my heart I bared before him, as each scarred and shattered shard
cried for vengeance, on those parents, cursed with hearts stone cold and hard.
And that is how I lived that season: grieving by that sapphire sea
Life was drained of rhyme and reason; she had been my symmetry!
Summer lingered, but the breezes all blew bitter down the pier.
And I said to my friend, Sorrow: “what the hell we doing here?”
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 25th, 2020 06:53
- Comment from author about the poem: for my old friend, Steve Sorrow
- Category: Love
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments2
good read,
rare to come across conversational themed works so this was a nice change of pace,
sorry for your loss, glad you had someone to lean on
Thanks LB. Yeah, this is a wordy piece of work, so thanks for taking the time. It IS a true part of my history, but the love I talk of losing, miraculously, came back to me many years later! And my old friend, Steve Levenston (Sorrow) came to our wedding. The poem reflects how I felt THEN, all those years ago. Again, thanks for reading. (Steve is the one in the photo sitting and I am standing - on the morning of my wedding day 4 years ago!!!)
Nice, it even come with a happy ending. lol
thanks for sharing
Hell of a tale: colour, change, and activity. Plus the underlying sorrow and soreness you tried to come to terms with or bury. Moved along at rattling speed for me. Hope I didn't miss too much along the way.
Dave
Many thanks, DD. Was a tale of long ago and far away. The love I lost, I\'ve won back again and my friend Stevie Sorrow came to our wedding... Only the feelings echo away in my memory. Again, thank you for taking the time....
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