The Authentic SOAP Poetry Cast

SWASH

Stanchions of green metal, a desolate towpath

scratches old thistles where the canal skirts the sea.

As far as the eye permits, a drumlin erupts framed by picturesque houses.

A headland protrudes extensively thrusting far beyond the turquoise channel.

A green and navy car is perched neatly next to a disused castle as two small turbines struggle to rotate.

A group of paper white swans revel playing on land. The head of a solitary deer penetrates an eroded hedgerow as an unusual precise square of water appears.

A burly cyclist transcends an antiquated stone bridge, crossing at the very moment the drumlin resurfaces. A large rock looks brutally exposed in the sea swash.

Three ships in a near military formation glaringly look at an erect lighthouse. A gravelly black quarry scars the landscape fittingly.

McCann is working at the old power station, I wonder if he is there today?

I don’t envy him, what a hideous structure!

The horizon is looming quickly as a field of cabbages briefly intercepts. A deep valley peppered by foreign trees disappears as does the horizon.

A swallow soars high but evaporates in the glistening bluey-white sky. Guarded rock faces form a formidable barrier.

Dunbar is working down at the harbour, if any man knows where the horizon has gone, it is him. 

With his flat cap, arched back and hand welded cigarette, he points to a small stream, his back creaking menacingly. I think he might be leading me up the garden path.

I keep looking and can see the horizon once again, a partition so defined and robust. There’s a mechanical sound, it must be those turbines, I thought they only dwelled on land.

I shift a few yards and sit against a mature silver birch tree. Ogling the horizon, I feel still and lonely but somehow connected.

I look back down towards the harbour, Dunbar has gone. Maybe for a few pints at the Bann Eel. I think I’ll join him for a sup of the black stuff.

That creamy taste is so magical, it’s like an awakening. Much more tangible than the horizon, but I won’t be fooled by either.