Severn's End

A (not very good) poem inspired by a recent visit to Severn Beach. The photos are OK though...

SEVERN'S END 

	Britannia’s longest bloodline Spills into Celtic seas so bleak Completing its epic voyage From high on a Cambrian peak Flowing through English shires Under Darby’s bridge of iron Over floodplains and marches Hosting coracles and leaping salmon
Battling billowing bores and treacherous tides muddy maelstroms meld and mingle and slap its slimy sides But there’s no romance at this place Instead man-made spans connect John Bull’s industrial belly with the Welsh dragon’s furnace
	But beauty is in the eye of the beholder For some the desolate isolation of a place spurned by city dwellers is graceful incarnation
Pebbles like rocky cannonballs stacked precariously on the mud Neat yet strangely irregular Colourless, yet many hued Driftwood jagging from these rock piles Crazed antlers of freakish sea deer Washed up plywood with peacock feathers Stained into flaking veneer
	Bubbling dreadlocks of seaweed cling grimly to their rocky hosts As icy gusts claim their scalps and winds turn them to grisly ghosts
Quivering jellies of mud lure children to a gloopy trap While high above a futuristic arc Carries an oblivious racing track
	A more sedate span brings Wordsworth’s valley Into the day trippers’ reach Sabrina, at the end of her journey Softly kisses this beautifully ugly Beach.