The Seagull

Not moments ago, a ragged and fettered

creature was he, awkward with staccato

gait, most out of place here on the firm

where he lives slow. Yellow beaks are all

that denotes his kind, his dubious morals

see him stealing bait around the harbour

side ,though a scant existence he ekes.

Then, with sudden change of thought

he sidles up and away, making light

of earthly pull, gravity napping caught.

How I envy, for to fly like this bird must

be reason to endure much privation. Freed

from gaoler’s restrains, wings outstretched,

skillful play on thermal breeze,gladdens the

sight. So powerful a desire, so complete

it’s allure, that I cannot hide a child like

smile . Crass machines of flight do not

leave impression, lasting or not. Yet the

soaring majesty of this bird in the blue,

in memory forever stays, so I can always

watch him float along cloud, cathedral


11 thoughts on “THE SEAGULL

    1. I can literally watch birds ride the thermals for hours. ‘Sea view’ in hindsight was bland, a filler but I’m pleased with this one and of course you picked up on a subtext, always something hidden with Mr Smith ! thank you Lynn.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Great poetry Nigel and it evokes memories of a childhood on the West Cumbrian coast. I always had a soft spot for seagulls and spent many a happy hour watching them attack adults.


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