This poem is in response to an art exhibition of epic proportions at Crosby Beach in Liverpool called ‘Another Place’ by Antony Gormely.
The sculpture exhibition consists of 100 cast iron figures facing towards the sea.
As you crest the dunes rows of figures stretch into the distance, standing forlorn, looking out to sea. Sentinel against the tides, they remind me of the permanence of nature’s advance, like King Canute hailing the tide to halt its progress then bear witness to its inexorable progress before proclaiming – 'Let all men know how empty and worthless is the power of kings, for there is none worthy of the name, but he whom heaven, earth, and sea obey by eternal laws.'
In search of inspiration I often find myself turning to art, especially when depression rears its ugly head and my mood sinks into the mire, draining me of the will to create and inspiring only emptiness. It’s at these times that I need an outward reflection of someone else’s muse, a coloured canvas to help populate my thoughts and find wonder in the dying light. An aching yearning that can return me to myself. It is the self-reflection of observing art that forces me to deal with the depressive feelings and walk through the flames. Emerging from the other side like the phoenix, burnt but re-born.
Bedecked with barnacles
Suffering the sea.
Wading out in worn
Rivulets, salt laced paths
Of shifting sands.
Watchers who stand
Harried by wind, broken down
in sediments silt
and the salt's kiss
shedding iron,
bitten by currents
of an eternal moon.
How do you feel?
Iron men embittered
by the tides tithe.
Cradled by the lull
of screeching gulls
Emptied out like shells
Scraped of life by sand.
How do you feel?
Embraced by light
only to be drowned.
Periodically renewed
then diminished,
Swallowed in
sea-spray, swaddled
in a coat of weeds
and biting molluscs.
How do you feel?
Left out in the cold,
in rusty mental breakdown.
A calcified expression of conflict
dreaming of the scrapyard.
A final resting place,
melting in rivulets of fire,
and wonder in its dying Light.
How do you feel, metal man?
As I stare in those eyes
the salt water washes mine,
we share in the brine.
All of the pictures used in this post are my own, taken at Crosby Beach in Liverpool. The music used in the reading is also public domain (free to use) Produced, Written and Performed by Shock of Daylight. If you have enjoyed this poem, you can check out my homepage @raj808 for similar content.
Thanks for reading/listening.
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