So we’re back from Hopes Nose and descending from the Ness we see Teignmouth stretched before us.
There have been a number of poems so far just entitled ‘Teignmouth’. This is another one I have found. It sounds as though the author is walking along the seafront promenade adjacent to the Den in the opposite direction to us. The Den has long been a focal point of Teignmouth and the ‘brown rock’ that ‘towers on the other side to me’ must be the Ness.
Trudging down the endless tarmac,
footsteps sound faint but crunch
like fresh winter snow, pacing the monotony.
As pitch black facades waver, brickwork welcomes
the occasional rash of shrubbery
along the Victorian Promenade.
The quay edging ever nearer,
sways gently to the soft cries from gulls circling far overhead
as the dimly lit main roads dissipate
into shadowy hedgerows
echoing the lowly drone of whirring cogs.
All the while gauging my surroundings
a brown rock towers on the other side to me.
Seemingly supporting the moon in its ascent
it’s bathed in the milky glow
and sparsely lit by beacons on the beach below.
Birds circle trying to find
their favourite corrugated iron perch,
on the blue roofs they murmur to their young.
And all the while, softly changing tides lap up
over the sand and shingle to cool the baked stones,
barely seen in the warm light of the street lamps.
Want to know more? Check out poetry and history via: