DeparturesA Poem by Gerald ParkerI have often stood bemused across the river from fabled Pocahontas’ grave, once Defoe country, his brickworks and Crusoe, a place you don’t name for fear of ridicule, now a murk-rippled Thames’ scummy shoreline. Arriving seagulls shriek in derision; dingy dredgers dawdle like shifty tramps; lumpen container ships insult the humbled port; cranes droop and rust, rail tracks disappear under shabby weeds - the only life reclaiming this stretch of river. A lone angler stares at the unyielding water, scant hope in a desolate place. Behind me a whiteboarded pub, ‘The World’s End’, named by a jester as though this miserable river front could ever match Finis Terrae. Yet in some ways it does. It is the crumbling jetty, the visible vestige, of our old world - tall ships, clippers, cutters and coasters, purveyors of empire and ten pound liners heading out to Australia. Departures with no landmark, no Three Graces or torch bearing statue, no nostalgic image to hold dear. Just a dismissive wave of a hand. .
© 2019 Gerald ParkerAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on November 2, 2019 Last Updated on November 2, 2019 AuthorGerald ParkerLondon, United KingdomAboutThere's not much to tell. I read a lot of poetry and I read my own poetry regularly. I hope other people read it and derive as much pleasure out of it as I do. My output is small, about 110 poems as I.. more..Writing
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