JINGLE ON MY SON!

JINGLE ON MY SON!
A doughty champion of his local culture.(Poet Tom Hubbard)Your performance at the city hall was soooooooooo good! Christoph thought it was excellent! (Carolyn)

15.10.10

SPANISH CITY




October 15th 2010
DOME GETS READY FOR NEW CHAPTER
Graeme Cook

Last month over 15,500 people flocked to the Spanish City Dome for a centenary exhibition.
And now fans of the famous landmark can discover even more about the building thanks to a new book being released next Friday.

'Spanish City – the Heart and Soul of Whitley Bay’, features stories from a range of local poets and writers, illustrated by photographs and artwork capturing the dramatic atmosphere of the site.

Northern Voices Community Projects, based in the seaside town, was commissioned by North Tyneside Council to produce the commemorative book, as part of the Dome’s centenary celebrations.

Editor and poet Keith Armstrong has lived in Whitley Bay for over 30 years and has co-produced the book with photographer and designer Peter Dixon.

Keith also has a number of his own poems about the Spanish City in the book. He said: “I’m thrilled the book is ready to be released.

“Myself and Peter are both extremely passionate about our local history, and the Spanish City is a major part of that.

“When I first heard about the project I knew it was something that we should get involved in. It’s such a significant place to so many people.

“Everyone has a fun story about the Spanish City, which provides a lot of passion and enthusiasm when they’re writing about it.

“Plus it’s a very atmospheric setting, which means the photographs and drawings of it are stunning and look fantastic in the full colour book.”

As well as looking at the history of the Spanish City, the book also has an eye on the future.

The council is currently considering proposals from two developers concerning the Spanish City Island, including the Dome.

It is anticipated that an announcement will be made before Christmas regarding the choice of preferred developer, and Keith is eager to find out what is in store for the area.

He said: “I realise plans for the site are still being decided, but I hope whatever the choice is, it’s something that everyone can enjoy.

“It was always a place where the community could get together and have fun, and this should be the case whatever the new development is.

“But until we find out, this book gives people the chance to reminisce about times gone by, as well as thinking about what the future holds for the site. It certainly is exciting times for Whitley Bay.”

The book will be on sale in a number of council outlets including libraries, tourist information centres, St Mary's Lighthouse and North Tyneside's museum venues. The recommended retail price is £5.

The new book builds on the large amount of work produced by Northern Voices over the years, including the popular ‘From Segedunum to the Spanish City’.

ENDS

Notes to editor:

It was visited by 12,133 people and, because of its popularity, was extended to run on Saturday, September 18 and Sunday, September 19. A total of 3,465 people visited at the weekend - bringing the overall total to 15,598.

Meanwhile, work is underway on a new road to the rear of Whitley Bay's Spanish City Dome, enabling the creation of a piazza area at the building's front.

Graeme Cook - Communications Assistant
North Tyneside Council,
Quadrant,
Silverlink North,
Cobalt Business Park,
North Tyneside,
NE27 0BY

Tel: 0191 643 5076


THE SPANISH CITY:

A CELEBRATION OF WHITLEY BAY'S ICONIC DOME IN WORDS AND PICTURES

EDITED BY KEITH ARMSTRONG & PETER DIXON

FUNDED BY NORTH TYNESIDE COUNCIL


BOOK LAUNCH

WHITLEY BAY PLAYHOUSE, MARINE AVENUE, WHITLEY BAY FRIDAY 22ND OCTOBER 2010 6PM

POEMS AND STORIES BY KEITH ARMSTRONG, STEVE BROWN, GEOFF HOLLAND, DAVE ALTON, GORDON PHILLIPS, CATHERINE GRAHAM, RACHEL COCHRANE, ALAN C. BROWN, TREVOR LEONARD, STAN GRAHAM, SHAUN PRENDERGAST, BRIAN HALL, CAROL NEW, MARGARET GIBSON, DEREK LOWDON, BILL MOOD.

ADMISSION FREE

FURTHER INFORMATION: NORTHERN VOICES TEL. 0191 2529531

13.10.10

there are those who sing



(for William Martin, 1925-2010)


There are those who sing,

poets

with the breath of thrushes;

who craft songs

from out of their deep roots,

whose verse roars

with the sea

and the sky

and the pain of the land.

In the cathedral

of their hearts,

their tunes rise up

and fill the heavens

with flocks of words.

They are few

and far between,

these fliers

of lyrics.

Above plodders

and traipsers

of verse,

they reach for real stars,

pluck at galaxies

and dreams

of word symphonies,

anthems

that soar for centuries.


William, my friend,

you were

one of these,

a fatherer of folk hymns,

a Durham choirman,

singing quarryman,

carving out poems

with his pick and soul.


On a piano keyboard

of a dictionary,

you composed

a music festival

of passionate poetry.



KEITH ARMSTRONG

10.10.10

Rise by John Lydon (Pil)




I could be wrong, I could be right.
I could be wrong.

I could be wrong, I could be right.
I could be black, I could be white.
I could be right, I could be wrong.
I could be white, I could be black.

Your time has come, your second skin.
You climb so high and gain so low.
Walk through the valley,
The written word is a lie.

May the road rise with you.

I could be wrong, I could be right.
I could be wrong, I could be right.

I could be wrong, I could be right.
I could be black, I could be white.
I could be right, I could be wrong.
I could be black, I could be white.

They put a hotwire to my head
Because of the things I did and said.
They made these feelings go away,
But those feelings get in everyway.

May the road rise with you.

Anger is an energy.

May the road rise with you.

Anger is an energy.

8.10.10

durham/tuebingen








































DURHAM/TUEBINGEN POETRY/MUSIC TWINNING EVENT

CLAYPORT LIBRARY, DURHAM CITY

monday 1st november at 7.30pm

poetry reading featuring: dr keith armstrong, cynthia fuller, katrina porteous

and from tuebingen: carolyn murphey melchers reading in german and in english

with henning ziebritzki



admission free

refreshments



n.b. there will be music afterwards with juergen stuerm from tuebingen and gary miller and marie little from durham in the bar of the dun cow, old elvet at 9pm, then in the lounge from 10.15pm. admission free

4.10.10

keep an eye on it!










































































































KEEP AN EYE ON THE MARTINI TOWER FOR ME


Keep an eye on the Martini Tower for me
while I struggle with my life.
I still miss the smell of fish
and the smoke of the Huis de Beurs.
I will be back, with another song,
for Mister Wilcox’s Liberation Tour.
I will be ready for that Pancake Ship
and the drunken stools of O’Ceallaigh’s.

Keep an eye on the Martini Tower for me
while I work out which view to see.
I will be shouting in a twin-town
and killing my time with romance.
I will be smashing through politicians
and drowning in red lights.
I will be rehearsing poems,
forgetting how real life hurts.

Keep an eye on the Martini Tower for me,
I’m tearing up coasts to greet you.
You’ll see my ghost in Schipol,
with a pint of strong blood in a glass.
I’m on my way back to Groningen ,
with the smack of three kisses on me,
to shake the warm hand of a city poet,
to piss in the face of a heckler.

Keep an eye on the Martini Tower for me,
I was happy in the Land of Cockaigne.
I could see clowns on a dismal day
and blondes in a sea of black.
I met a Grey Man with a girl of nineteen
and I asked him to show me the way.
I saw an old hand hack the guts from a beast
and sucked a cigar to be kind.

Keep an eye on the Martini Tower for me,
don’t let her fly away.
I need her to hold my life together,
I crave her to show me the way.
I want her to lean my fragile bones against,
I need history to guide my feet.
I have left a careworn scarf with you,
keep it warm for when I come back.



KEITH ARMSTRONG

Groningen.

(as sung by Gary Miller)




Hello Keith!

Am still impressed about Herr Huber and that poem about you and the pig-farmers playing in the airplane.... very very nice and impressive.
I told about your poems sunday afternoon a friend, she's living in Haren.... . look, what you did... :-)

Was very nice meeting you in the Charly Dickens room in Haren last friday, am happy I visited your performance.
And yes, hope to meet you again, with some new poems aside of course, if possible.

With very kind regards,

Bernd

jingle jingle!


3.10.10

listen up north!

25.9.10

recent shots!





















18.9.10

JINGLING GEORDIE!



BOOKS ON TYNE, NEWCASTLE BOOK FESTIVAL

Newcastle City Library
Charles Avison Building
33 New Bridge Street West
Newcastle upon Tyne.


Saturday 6 November Room 8, Level 6 (Local Studies).


4pm The Jingling Geordie

Dr Keith Armstrong gives a lively reading of his Newcastle poems.




It’s free, but booking is advisable. Book this session in advance by phoning 0191 2774100, emailing information@newcastle.gov.uk, or just ask a member of staff at City Library.

17.9.10

umbrian festival in tuebingen



13.9.10

r.i.p. william martin great spirit and poet 1925-2010






http://williammartinpoet.com/

11.9.10

keith armstrong & gary miller are returning to the hotel de doelen in groningen soon




























GROTE MARKT



Grote Markt,
big as my heart,
your stones are wet
with all the kisses of my life.
Wide with welcome,
you open up the skies for me,
your face changes with the clouds.
Your winning charm
can sell me anything.
I embrace your openness,
your outstretched body
bears me fruit
and the raw fish
of morning,
sunshine memories
and the delicate touch
of the moon.
Dance with me,
there is light
in all your puddles
of yearning.
Smile,
all the blood
is washed
away.




KEITH ARMSTRONG

http://garymillersongs.com/projects.php

THE GRAND RESIDENCY









KEITH ARMSTRONG & PETER DIXON

GRAND HOTEL ARTISTS' RESIDENCY

GRAND TIMES - A NEW PUBLICATION

Featuring Keith Armstrong’s sequence of poems inspired by the recent artists' residency.



I have written
A Grand poem
On the Long Sands
For visitors to read
From their windows.




THE GRAND HOTEL, TYNEMOUTH


Owned by the Duke of Northumberland, and initially built as a summer residence in 1872 for the Duchess, it was converted to an hotel in 1877. Built by Thomas Moor of Sunderland for £10,000, throughout its chequered past the Grand Hotel has always been regarded as the most luxurious hotel in the area, with one of its main attractions being the opulent sweeping Victorian staircase. The hotel has survived to put Tynemouth well and truly on the map, attracting tourists from all over the world keen to sample the proud heritage of North East England.


LAUREL AND HARDY AT THE GRAND

Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy first arrived at the Grand on Thursday July 28th 1932. .
They returned to the Grand for a civic reception with the Mayor of Tynemouth on Wednesday 26th February 1947, during an appearance at the Newcastle Empire Theatre, their British theatre debut.
Ther last visit to the Grand was from Monday March 17th 1952.


STARS AT THE GRAND

In 2004, North Shields playwright Tom Hadaway (1923-2005) wrote a play ‘Actors and Orphans’ about Laurel and Hardy’s first visit to the Grand in 1932:
‘You make the beds? Honey, that makes you somebody! Believe me! A single item of bed linen can say more than the collected works of William Shakespeare.’
Apart from Laurel and Hardy, the list of the many celebrities and much loved people who have graced the Grand includes: Dame Vera Lynn, Mike and Bernie Winters, Stanley Baker, Margaret Rutherford, Tynemouth’s Conservative M.P. Dame Irene Ward, comedian Dave Allen, actors Stephen Tomkinson, Billy Hartman (Terry Woods in Emmerdale), John Middleton (Ashley Thomas, the Emmerdale vicar), Chris Gascoyne (Peter Barlow in Coronation Street), musician Bob Geldof and, last but not least, footballing legend Sir Bobby Robson.

For the love of Sir Bobby
we will drink in the sea
For the love of Sir Bobby
we will dance with our kids
For the love of Sir Bobby
we will rise again

(Keith Armstrong)


IN LOVING MEMORY OF SIR BOBBY ROBSON (1933-2009)






FREE COPIES OF THE BOOK FROM NIGEL HASTIE, MANAGER, GRAND HOTEL TEL. 0191 2936666 OR KEITH ARMSTRONG & PETER DIXON TEL. 0191 2529531

7.9.10

4.9.10

jingle's just back from edinburgh!




groningen sunrise

26.8.10

arriving back in den bosch!













































THE LACK OF MUSIC ON A DEN BOSCH ESTATE

In a tide of yellow and red,
I staggered with a brass band mob
at the surging Carnival.
I felt the sound of drums
and the thud of my head
as the girls lifted up their skirts
and laughed
at me.
Crammed into the Bonte Palet
with booming frogs,
I supped the pouring ale of centuries;
I tore myself away from the prancing,
leapt into a cab with a cackling driver
to make it to the dimmed suburbs.
Across this field,
you could barely feel
the joy and antics
of the Brabant people
in the town.
Down Palestrinastraat,
Vivaldistraat,
I groped.
Along Mozartsingel,
past Bachstraat
and Chopinstraat
to Wagnerlaan,
my heart began to ache
with the lack of music
and dancing.
On to Beethovenlaan
and Verdistraat
to Brucknerstraat,
the curtains twitching
as I staggered,
with folk songs gone
and my tongue
emptied of lyrics.
To Schubertsingel
and, at last,
Cesar Francklaan,
the sudden silence
of a drowned village,
an orchestra shot dead
with the bullets of icy tears
from blind windows,
sullen neighbours
and their droning hymns.





KEITH ARMSTRONG

22.8.10

15.8.10

Still irresistible, a working-class hero's finest speech




Jimmy Reid, the Clydeside trade union activist who died this week, was an inspiring orator. This speech, delivered on his inauguration as rector of Glasgow University in 1972, was compared at the time to the Gettysburg Address. It has lost little of its relevance:

Alienation is the precise and correctly applied word for describing the major social problem in Britain today. People feel alienated by society. In some intellectual circles it is treated almost as a new phenomenon. It has, however, been with us for years. What I believe is true is that today it is more widespread, more pervasive than ever before. Let me right at the outset define what I mean by alienation. It is the cry of men who feel themselves the victims of blind economic forces beyond their control. It's the frustration of ordinary people excluded from the processes of decision-making. The feeling of despair and hopelessness that pervades people who feel with justification that they have no real say in shaping or determining their own destinies.

Many may not have rationalised it. May not even understand, may not be able to articulate it. But they feel it. It therefore conditions and colours their social attitudes. Alienation expresses itself in different ways in different people. It is to be found in what our courts often describe as the criminal antisocial behaviour of a section of the community. It is expressed by those young people who want to opt out of society, by drop-outs, the so-called maladjusted, those who seek to escape permanently from the reality of society through intoxicants and narcotics. Of course, it would be wrong to say it was the sole reason for these things. But it is a much greater factor in all of them than is generally recognised.

Society and its prevailing sense of values leads to another form of alienation. It alienates some from humanity. It partially de-humanises some people, makes them insensitive, ruthless in their handling of fellow human beings, self-centred and grasping. The irony is, they are often considered normal and well-adjusted. It is my sincere contention that anyone who can be totally adjusted to our society is in greater need of psychiatric analysis and treatment than anyone else. They remind me of the character in the novel, Catch 22, the father of Major Major. He was a farmer in the American Mid-West. He hated suggestions for things like medi-care, social services, unemployment benefits or civil rights. He was, however, an enthusiast for the agricultural policies that paid farmers for not bringing their fields under cultivation. From the money he got for not growing alfalfa he bought more land in order not to grow alfalfa. He became rich. Pilgrims came from all over the state to sit at his feet and learn how to be a successful non-grower of alfalfa. His philosophy was simple. The poor didn't work hard enough and so they were poor. He believed that the good Lord gave him two strong hands to grab as much as he could for himself. He is a comic figure. But think – have you not met his like here in Britain? Here in Scotland? I have.

It is easy and tempting to hate such people. However, it is wrong. They are as much products of society, and of a consequence of that society, human alienation, as the poor drop-out. They are losers. They have lost the essential elements of our common humanity. Man is a social being. Real fulfilment for any person lies in service to his fellow men and women. The big challenge to our civilisation is not Oz, a magazine I haven't seen, let alone read. Nor is it permissiveness, although I agree our society is too permissive. Any society which, for example, permits over one million people to be unemployed is far too permissive for my liking. Nor is it moral laxity in the narrow sense that this word is generally employed – although in a sense here we come nearer to the problem. It does involve morality, ethics, and our concept of human values. The challenge we face is that of rooting out anything and everything that distorts and devalues human relations.

Let me give two examples from contemporary experience to illustrate the point.

Recently on television I saw an advert. The scene is a banquet. A gentleman is on his feet proposing a toast. His speech is full of phrases like "this full-bodied specimen". Sitting beside him is a young, buxom woman. The image she projects is not pompous but foolish. She is visibly preening herself, believing that she is the object of the bloke's eulogy. Then he concludes – "and now I give...", then a brand name of what used to be described as Empire sherry. Then the laughter. Derisive and cruel laughter. The real point, of course, is this. In this charade, the viewers were obviously expected to identify not with the victim but with her tormentors.

The other illustration is the widespread, implicit acceptance of the concept and term "the rat race". The picture it conjures up is one where we are scurrying around scrambling for position, trampling on others, back-stabbing, all in pursuit of personal success. Even genuinely intended, friendly advice can sometimes take the form of someone saying to you, "Listen, you look after number one." Or as they say in London, "Bang the bell, Jack, I'm on the bus."

To the students [of Glasgow University] I address this appeal. Reject these attitudes. Reject the values and false morality that underlie these attitudes. A rat race is for rats. We're not rats. We're human beings. Reject the insidious pressures in society that would blunt your critical faculties to all that is happening around you, that would caution silence in the face of injustice lest you jeopardise your chances of promotion and self-advancement. This is how it starts, and before you know where you are, you're a fully paid-up member of the rat-pack. The price is too high. It entails the loss of your dignity and human spirit. Or as Christ put it, "What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his soul?"

Profit is the sole criterion used by the establishment to evaluate economic activity. From the rat race to lame ducks. The vocabulary in vogue is a give-away. It's more reminiscent of a human menagerie than human society. The power structures that have inevitably emerged from this approach threaten and undermine our hard-won democratic rights. The whole process is towards the centralisation and concentration of power in fewer and fewer hands. The facts are there for all who want to see. Giant monopoly companies and consortia dominate almost every branch of our economy. The men who wield effective control within these giants exercise a power over their fellow men which is frightening and is a negation of democracy.

Government by the people for the people becomes meaningless unless it includes major economic decision-making by the people for the people. This is not simply an economic matter. In essence it is an ethical and moral question, for whoever takes the important economic decisions in society ipso facto determines the social priorities of that society.

From the Olympian heights of an executive suite, in an atmosphere where your success is judged by the extent to which you can maximise profits, the overwhelming tendency must be to see people as units of production, as indices in your accountants' books. To appreciate fully the inhumanity of this situation, you have to see the hurt and despair in the eyes of a man suddenly told he is redundant, without provision made for suitable alternative employment, with the prospect in the West of Scotland, if he is in his late forties or fifties, of spending the rest of his life in the Labour Exchange. Someone, somewhere has decided he is unwanted, unneeded, and is to be thrown on the industrial scrap heap. From the very depth of my being, I challenge the right of any man or any group of men, in business or in government, to tell a fellow human being that he or she is expendable.

The concentration of power in the economic field is matched by the centralisation of decision-making in the political institutions of society. The power of Parliament has undoubtedly been eroded over past decades, with more and more authority being invested in the Executive. The power of local authorities has been and is being systematically undermined. The only justification I can see for local government is as a counter- balance to the centralised character of national government.

Local government is to be restructured. What an opportunity, one would think, for de-centralising as much power as possible back to the local communities. Instead, the proposals are for centralising local government. It's once again a blue-print for bureaucracy, not democracy. If these proposals are implemented, in a few years when asked "Where do you come from?" I can reply: "The Western Region." It even sounds like a hospital board.

It stretches from Oban to Girvan and eastwards to include most of the Glasgow conurbation. As in other matters, I must ask the politicians who favour these proposals – where and how in your calculations did you quantify the value of a community? Of community life? Of a sense of belonging? Of the feeling of identification? These are rhetorical questions. I know the answer. Such human considerations do not feature in their thought processes.

Everything that is proposed from the establishment seems almost calculated to minimise the role of the people, to miniaturise man. I can understand how attractive this prospect must be to those at the top. Those of us who refuse to be pawns in their power game can be picked up by their bureaucratic tweezers and dropped in a filing cabinet under "M" for malcontent or maladjusted. When you think of some of the high flats around us, it can hardly be an accident that they are as near as one could get to an architectural representation of a filing cabinet.

If modern technology requires greater and larger productive units, let's make our wealth-producing resources and potential subject to public control and to social accountability. Let's gear our society to social need, not personal greed. Given such creative re-orientation of society, there is no doubt in my mind that in a few years we could eradicate in our country the scourge of poverty, the underprivileged, slums, and insecurity.

Even this is not enough. To measure social progress purely by material advance is not enough. Our aim must be the enrichment of the whole quality of life. It requires a social and cultural, or if you wish, a spiritual transformation of our country. A necessary part of this must be the restructuring of the institutions of government and, where necessary, the evolution of additional structures so as to involve the people in the decision-making processes of our society. The so-called experts will tell you that this would be cumbersome or marginally inefficient. I am prepared to sacrifice a margin of efficiency for the value of the people's participation. Anyway, in the longer term, I reject this argument.

To unleash the latent potential of our people requires that we give them responsibility. The untapped resources of the North Sea are as nothing compared to the untapped resources of our people. I am convinced that the great mass of our people go through life without even a glimmer of what they could have contributed to their fellow human beings. This is a personal tragedy. It's a social crime. The flowering of each individual's personality and talents is the pre-condition for everyone's development.

In this context education has a vital role to play. If automation and technology is accompanied as it must be with a full employment, then the leisure time available to man will be enormously increased. If that is so, then our whole concept of education must change. The whole object must be to equip and educate people for life, not solely for work or a profession. The creative use of leisure, in communion with and in service to our fellow human beings, can and must become an important element in self-fulfilment.

Universities must be in the forefront of development, must meet social needs and not lag behind them. It is my earnest desire that this great University of Glasgow should be in the vanguard, initiating changes and setting the example for others to follow. Part of our educational process must be the involvement of all sections of the university on the governing bodies. The case for student representation is unanswerable. It is inevitable.

My conclusion is to re-affirm what I hope and certainly intend to be the spirit permeating this address. It's an affirmation of faith in humanity. All that is good in man's heritage involves recognition of our common humanity, an unashamed acknowledgement that man is good by nature. Burns expressed it in a poem that technically was not his best, yet captured the spirit. In "Why should we idly waste our prime...":

"The golden age, we'll then revive, each man shall be a brother,

In harmony we all shall live and till the earth together,

In virtue trained, enlightened youth shall move each fellow creature,

And time shall surely prove the truth that man is good by nature."

It's my belief that all the factors to make a practical reality of such a world are maturing now. I would like to think that our generation took mankind some way along the road towards this goal. It's a goal worth fighting for.

Reproduced with permission from the archive of the University of Glasgow

11.8.10

POEM FOR A BLUES HARMONICA



















(for Ad van Emmerik)



A poem is an organ of the mouth,
a verse I suck and blow.
It sings from my heart on the wind,
it breathes with my life.

I place my poetry between my lips,
like licking my girlfriend’s breasts.
I smoke it like a cigar
and squeeze the good juice from it.

My poetry is a fire,
it screams blues murders.
I craft it with my gentle fingers
and shout it around the world.

This poem is a drink wet with rhyme,
a harp in a rowdy beer museum.
I am a drunk whose rhymes stagger,
my words are music in your ear.






Keith Armstrong

10.8.10

POEM FOR THE COMMUNITY


















Out of love,

grasp life.

Hold it

in your arms.

It is breathing.

It needs to be

cared for.


Don’t be afraid

to kiss it.

Hug it openly;

laugh and dance with it;

let it fly high

and come back

to sleep with you.


The purpose of life

is living,

walking, running,

dreaming, loving.

No more than to create

with others.

No more than to live, drink, eat, share

with others.


Life is community.

Community is to link as lovers,

to give untl your heart can give no more.


Caress that seagull’s wing,

lick the dew from the grass,

grow the most beautiful flower,

protect the ugliest weed,

hold the hand of a cripple,

wave to the sea and the sky.


Whatever you do,

live it.

That’s the only point.


Enjoy it,

enrich it.

Sow seeds of welcome,

seeds of respect,

dignity for every living thing,

for every damned growing thing.


Go on

making stories of a lifetime,

taking from the past the best love songs.

Don’t ask what life is -

it’s in you,

it’s the breath you breathe

into others.





Keith Armstrong


UNDERWATER VOICES















(Dedicated to Freddy the Dolphin)


(1)

across the ocean fields
this beacon burning

those years sailed by
seeking memories
of shipwrecks

heartbreaking waves

soft coral communities
relic dunes

(2)

i’m trading all my sorrows for an ocean and a breeze

starlight spins the sky a web of diamonds

drifting in my daydreams to the islands

the spirit of the sailor whispers in the wind

follow the dolphin
follow the dolphin


i need to hear a voice inside the ocean’s roar

you might hear the crying of the babies

follow the dolphin
follow the dolphin


(3)

drifting in moonlight
the dunes sing their songs

cry of the seagulls
curse of the ghosts

aches of dead warriors scar this old coast

this air is our breath
this sea is our thirst

our dreams are sailing home

forebears and old cares
blown in the wind

pull of loved harbours
draws our boats in

surge of the salmon
and urge of the sea

follow the dolphin
follow the dolphin


slopes of the cheviots
caress of the waves

shipwrecks and driftwood
float in our heads

follow the dolphin
follow the dolphin


(4)

spearing dusk
living on the brink

the evening is a prayer
a red hymn

the sky soars around us

follow the dolphin





KEITH ARMSTRONG

8.8.10

the jingling geordie

My photo
whitley bay, tyne and wear, United Kingdom
poet and raconteur