Flowing

Photography, Poetry, Water

Liquid

DSC_0475.JPG

#OWPC

Salford 16th May 2018

Who needs evian ?

Coming live from the finest aquifers

rolling and travelling through rivers and streams

filtered through Mountains, Limestone and granite

and stored in great lakes and reservoirs

the purest and freshest water

and its coming direct to the tap

Raindrops (part ii)

Poetry, Water

Salford 2nd April 2018

rolling in from the irish sea

a thousand million raindrops fall from the heavens

in time, having made their way through the rivers and pipes , travelling

night and day, they’ll collect together and be

deposited into the local

reservoirs – where after a while – to be treated, they’ll travel

out via the city waterworks through

pipes cisterns and tanks and

someone somewhere, will enjoy fresh clean water

Driftwood

Acrostic, Animals, Poetry, Water

Salford, 3rd February 2018

Detritus floating en-masse down the ship canal

Readily aided by the boats and the water

Is floating aimlessly towards the basin gates

Full stop only happening upon hitting the booms where each stick gangs

Together forming a pretty pattern on the

Waters surface

Overjoyed geese, plunder the booty, piling

One large stick on top of another till a safe place for eggs has been built, whilst

Downstream, a boat with a foriegn name (and crane) is coming to pick up the leftovers

Particular

Memories, Places, Poetry, Water

Trafford_Rd_Swing_Bridge

Particular

Take a day, any day

And a place, any place

Now take a time, any time

and capture it

Freeze frame

in your memory

That was the day you ate that Sandwich at the quayside cafe

and saw brave souls in Frogsuits dive headlong in the eerie

deep waters of a Salford Canal Basin

They travelled so quickly

Foam rose in the waters

and Canoe based Marshals

Bobbed around in Man-made waves

Another Winters Morning

Canalside, Fishing, Water, Waterside

Fishing

As the mercury begins its annual retreat

the angler keeps a watch

the winter water, dark and cold

as silvery sources flicker

 

Hot air turning to almost fog

as chair it rests on sawn up logs

and line it sits, still, with great aplomb

as angler watches for a flicker

 

The float bobs away

in the ice cold soup

slight winds make it bob and loop

but not yet beyond its line it stoops

 

Ripples in water – give something away

as down in the depths – something does play

so sat angler waits – and beef tea he does pour

whilst listening to sports news on Radio four

 

But then there’s some action – could that be a Pike ?

the float swings round wildly – It’s the chain off a bike

and bubbles arising ? – the laughter of the fish

who’ve stopping being put on the wall or a dish