Bandstand in September


Deckchairs flap

to a rhythm

from the sea,

and hats are worn

against the north east wind,


dry leaves rustle

a counterpoint

and the only dancers

shape a slow gyration

in the breeze,


their feet in time,

habitually precise

from years of practice

and routine


but now she turns her face

from his gaze,


as the singer croons

‘Tis Autumn


                 ©Adrian Green (2012 - from Southend Poetry 28)



New moon on the lake.
Your voice and the nightingale
serenade springtime.

Full moon on the lake.
Your voice and the waterbirds
celebrate summer.

Old moon on the lake.
Owls hunting autumnal food -
your voice still singing.

                                 © Adrian Green (from Southend Poetry 1996)
("Luna Lake Haiku" was previously published in "New Essex Writing", 1993 )



Sea-coal stains the sand,
an icy north sea wind cuts through my coat
and water seeps through tattered shoes.

The raw, relentless waves sweep,
rumbling, in great arcs
across the beach, and sand grains
blast my eyes half-shut.

I hide behind uncertain barricades.
These dunes are battlements, crumbling now,
between the dirty open-cast and sea.

                                              © Adrian Green (from Southend Poetry 1996)


Adrian Green's Poetry Page